San Kuo/Volume 2/Chapter 94

The scheme by which Kuo Huai proposed to overcome the men of Shu he laid before his colleague, saying, “The Ch‘iang (Tangut) tribes have paid tribute regularly since the days of the Founder of our House. The Emperor Wên (220-227) regarded them with favour. Now let us hold such points of vantage as we may while we send secret emissaries to engage their help in exchange for kindly treatment. We may get them to attack Shu and engage their attention while we gather a large army to smite them at another place. Thus attacking, how can we help gaining a great victory?”

A messenger was sent forthwith bearing letters to the barbarians.

The prince of the western Ch‘iang was named Ch‘êlichi. He had rendered yearly tribute since the days of Ts‘ao Tsao. He had two ministers, one for civil the other for military affairs, named, respectively, Yatan and Yüehchi. The former was termed Prime Minister and the latter Chief Leader.

The letter was accompanied by presents of gold and pearls, and when the messenger arrived he first sought Yatan, to whom he gave gifts and whose help he begged. Thus he gained an interview with the prince, to whom he presented the letter and the gifts. The prince accepted both and called his counsellors to consider the letter.

Yatan said, “We have had regular intercourse with the Wei country. Now that Ts‘ao Chên asks our aid and promises an alliance we ought to accede to his request.”

The prince agreed that it was so, and he ordered his two chief ministers to raise an army of twenty-five legions of trained soldiers, archers and crossbowmen, spearmen and swordsmen, men who flung caltrops and men who hurled hammers. Beside these various weapons the barbarians used chariots covered with iron plates nailed on. They prepared much grain and fodder and many spare weapons, all of which they loaded upon these iron-clad chariots. The chariots were drawn by camels or teams of horses. The carts or chariots were known as iron chariots.

The two leaders took leave of their prince and went straightway to Hsip‘ing Pass. The officer in command, Han Chên, at once sent intelligence to K‘ung-ming, who asked who ​would go to attack the Ch‘iang. Kuan Hsiang and Chang Pao said they would go.

Then K‘ung-ming said, “You shall be sent; but as you are ignorant of the road and the people, Ma Tai shall accompany you.”

To Ma Tai he said, “You know the disposition of the Ch‘iang from your long residence there; you shall go as guide.”

They chose out five legions of veterans for the expedition. When they had marched many days and drew near their enemy, Kuan Hsing went in advance with a few horsemen and got first sight of them from a hill. They were marching, the long line of iron chariots one behind another in close order. Then they halted and camped, their weapons piled all along the line of chariots like the ramparts of a moated city. Kuan studied them for a long time quite at a loss to think how to overcome them. He came back to camp and consulted with his two colleagues.

Ma Tai said, “We will see to-morrow what they will do when we make our array, and discuss our plans when we know more.”

So the next day they drew up their army in three divisions, Kuan Hsing’s division being in the centre. Thus they advanced.

The enemy also drew up in battle order. Their military chief, Yüehchi, had an iron mace in his hand and a carven bow hung at his waist. He rode forward on a curvetting steed boldly enough. Kuan Hsing gave the order for all three divisions to go forward. Then the enemy’s ranks opened in the centre and out rolled the iron chariots like a great wave. At the same time the barbarians shot arrows and bolts, and the men of Shu could not stand against them.

The wing divisions retired, and the Ch‘iang were thus enabled to surround the centre. In spite of every effort, Kuan could not get free, for the iron chariots were like a city wall and no opening could be found. The men of Shu were absolutely helpless, and Kuan Hsing made for the mountains in hope of finding a road through.

As it grew dark a Ch‘iang leader with a black flag approached, his men like a swarm of wasps about him. Presently Kuan made out the iron mace of Yüehchi, who cried out to him, “Youthful captain, flee not; I am the Chief Leader of the army.”

But Kuan Hsing only hastened forward, plying his whip to urge his steed. Then he suddenly came on a deep gully, and there seemed nothing but to turn and fight. But Kuan Hsing’s courage turned cold at the sight of Yüehchi, and he leaped into the gully. Yüehchi come close and struck at him with the mace. Kuan avoided the blow but it fell upon his steed and knocked him over into water. Kuan went into the water too. ​Presently he heard a great noise again behind him. Yüehchi and his men had found a way down into the gully and were coming at him down the stream. Kuan braced himself for a struggle in the water.

Then he saw someone on the bank fighting with, and driving off, the Ch‘iang. Kuan Hsing gripped his sword and was waiting to get in a stroke at Yüehchi as he came up when guddenly his enemy jumped out of the water and ran away. At once Kuan Hsing caught the steed he had left, led him up the bank and soon had him ready to mount. Then he girded on his sword, and was just getting on the horse when again appeared the captain he had seen before driving off his enemies.

“Whoever this may be, he has saved my life,” thought Kuan Hsing. “I ought to make his acquaintance.”

He accordingly pressed forward after his deliverer. As he drew nearer he saw, enveloped in mist, a man, evidently an officer of rank, with a dark red face and heavy eyebrows, wearing a green robe and a golden helmet. He wielded a huge sword such as was Black Dragon and rode a hare-coloured steed. From time to time he stroked a long flowing beard. Then he understood; it was his dead father, Kuan the Noble.

Kuan Hsing was frightened. But his father pointed southeast and said, “My son, go quickly along that road and I will guard you to your camp.”

With that the figure disappeared. Kuan took the road he had been shown and hastened along. About midnight he saw a cohort advancing to meet him, and recognised his cousin Chang Pao.

“Have you seen my uncle?” asked Chang.

“How did you know?” asked Kuan.

“I was pursued by the iron chariots when I suddenly saw my uncle coming down from the sky, and he frightened the pursuers away. Then he told me to come along this road and rescue you. So I came.”

Thereupon Kuan Hsing related what had happened to him, and they were both astonished.

They quickly gained the camp, where Ma Tai welcomed them.

“I do not know how to overcome these men,” said Ma Tai. “Let me protect the camp while you go back and ask the minister what we should do.”

The two started at once and made the best of their way back. They told K‘ung-ming what had happened. He at once sent off Chao Yün and Wei Yen to go into ambush. After this he went himself with three legions and certain officers and soon came to Ma Tai’s camp. The day after, from the summit of a hill, he surveyed the country and the enemy, who were coming on in a ceaseless stream.

​ “It is not difficult,” said K‘ung-ming.

He called up Ma Tai and Chang I and gave them certain orders.

They having gone, he turned to Chiang Wei, saying, “My friend, do you know how to overcome them?”

“The Ch‘iang only depend upon force or courage, not upon fine strategy.” was the reply.

“You know,” said K‘ung-ming, smiling. “Those dark clouds and the strong north wind mean snow. Then I can do what I wish.”

The two leaders, Kuan and Chang, were sent into ambush, and Chiang Wei went out to offer battle. But he was to retire before the iron chariots. At the entrance to the camp were displayed many flags, but the men that should serve under them were not there.

It was now full winter, the twelfth month, and the snow had come. The army of Shu went out to offer battle, and when the iron chariots came forward they retired and thus led the Ch‘iang to the gate of the camp, Chiang Wei going to its rear. The Ch‘iang came to the gate and stopped to look. They heard the strumming of a lute, but there were no soldiers there; the flags meant nothing. They told Yüehchi, and he suspected some ruse. Instead of entering, he went back to the Minister Yatan and told him.

“It is a ruse,” said Yatan. “Chuko Liang’s base trick is the pretence of a pretence, and you had better attack.”

So Yüehchi led his men again to the camp gate, and there he saw K‘ung-ming with a lute just getting into his chariot. With a small escort he went toward the back of the camp. The barbarians rushed into the camp and caught sight of the light chariot again just as it disappeared into a wood.

Then said Yatan, “There may be an ambush, but I think we need not be afraid of these men.”

Hence they decided to pursue. Ahead of them they saw the division under Chiang Wei hastening off through the snow. Yüehchi’s rage boiled up at this sight, and he urged his men to go faster. The snow had filled in the roads among the hills, making every part look like a level plain.

As they marched, one reported that some of the enemy were appearing from the rear of the hills. Some thought this meant an ambush, but Yatan said it did not matter, and they need not fear. He urged them to hasten.

Shortly after this they heard a roaring as if the hills were rending asunder and the earth falling in, and the pursuers on foot fell one atop of the other into great pits that were invisible in the snow. The iron chariots, being close behind and hurrying along, could not stop, and they went into the pits also. Those still farther in the rear halted, but just as they were facing about, Kuan and Chang came up, one on either side, ​and attacked. Myriads of bolts flew through the air. Then three other divisions arrived and confusion was worse than ever.

The Ch‘iang leader, Yüehchi, fled to the rear and was making for the mountains when he met Kuan Hsing, who slew him in the first encounter. The Minister Yutan was captured and taken to the main camp. The soldiers scattered.

Hearing of the capture of one leader, K‘ung-ming took his seat in his tent and bade them bring the prisoner. He told the guards to loose his bonds, and he had wine brought to refresh him and soothed him with kindly words. Yatan was grateful for this kindness, and felt more so when K‘ung-ming said, “My master, the Emperor of the Great Hans, sent me to destroy those who are in revolt; why are you helping them? But I will release you, and you will return to your master and say that we are neighbours and we will swear an oath of everlasting friendship, and tell him to listen no more to the words of those rebels.”

The minister was released and so were all the soldiers that had been captured, and all their stuff was given back to them. They left for their own country.

The Ch‘iang being thus disposed of, K‘ung-ming quickly marched again to Ch‘ishan. He sent letters to the capital announcing his success.

Meanwhile Ts‘ao Chên anxiously waited for news of his expected allies. Then a scout came in with the news that the men of Shu had broken camp and were marching away.

“That is because the Ch‘iang have attacked,” said Kuo Huai gleefully, and the two made ready to pursue.

Ahead of them the army of Shu seemed to be in confusion. The van-leader Ts‘ao Tsun led the pursuit. Suddenly, as he pressed on, there came a roll of drums, followed by the appearance of a cohort led by Wei Yen, who cried, “Stop! you rebels!”

But Ts‘ao Tsun did not obey the summons. He dashed forward to meet the attack. He was killed in the third encounter. His colleague Chu Tsan in similar fashion fell in with a cohort under Chao Yün, to whose long spear he soon fell victim. The loss of these two made the Commander-inchief and his second hesitate, and they made to retire.

But before they could face about they heard the drums of an army in their rear, and Kuan Hsing and Chang Pao came out and surrounded them. They made a stand for a time, but were soon worsted and fled. The army of Shu pursued the beaten enemy to the banks of the River Wei, where they took possession of the enemy’s camp.

Ts‘ao Chên was greatly chagrined at his defeat and sad at the loss of his captains. He send a repart of his misfortune to his master and asked for reinforcements.

​At the court of Wei one of the ministers told the story of defeat of Ts‘ao Chên and the allies and asked the king to decide upon the next step. Jui was alarmed and asked for someone to say how to drive off the victorious foe. Thereupon Hua Hsin said, “It will be necessary for Your Majesty to go in person. You should call together all the nobles, and each will have to exert himself. Unless this is done the capital will be lost and the whole country be in danger.”

But Chung Yu opposed him. Said he, “The knowledge of every leader must exceed that of those led; then only will he be able to control them. Sun, the military writer, sums it up very briefly: 'Know the enemy, know thyself; and every battle is a victory.' I know Ts‘ao Chên has had great experience in the field, but he is no match for Chuko Liang. Still there is such a match, and I will pledge my whole family that he will succeed. But Your Majesty may be unwilling to listen to me.”

King Jui replied, “You are a minister of high rank and old. If you know any wise man able to repel these men of Shu, call him without delay and ease my mind.”

Then said Chung Yu, “When Chuko Liang decided to invade us he was afraid of the one man I will name. Wherefore he spread calumnies concerning him, raising suspicion in Your Majesty’s mind that you might dismiss him. That done, he invaded. Now employ this man again, and the enemy will retire.”

“Who is it?” asked Jui.

“I mean the great general Ssŭma I.”

“I have long regretted my action,” said Jui. “Where now is friend Ssŭma?”

“He is at the city of Wan, idle.”

An edict was prepared recalling Ssŭma and restoring him to his rank and titles, and conferring upon him the new title Commander-in-chief, “Pacificator of the West.” The troops of Nanyang were set in motion and King Jui led them to Ch‘angan. At the same time he ordered Ssŭma I to be there to meet him on a certain day. And the orders were sent by a swift messenger to the city of Wan.

At this time K‘ung-ming greatly rejoiced at the success he had had. He was at Ch‘ishan, busy with plans for other victories, when Li Yen, who was still in command at Jungan, sent his son Li Fêng to the camp. K‘ung-ming concluded that such a visit could only mean that Wu had invaded them, and he was in consequence cast down. However, he summoned Li Fêng to his tent, and when asked the object of his mission Li replied that he had joyful news to impart.

“What is your joyful news?” said K‘ung-ming.

“Formerly Mêng Ta deserted to Wei, but only because he could do nothing else. Ts‘ao P‘ei thought much of his cap​abilities, treated him most generously, kept him at his side, gave him titles and offices and so on. But when P‘ei died all was changed. In Ts‘ao Jui’s court were many who were jealous of his influence and power, so that he enjoyed no peace. He used to talk about being originally one of the Shu leaders and he would be forced to do so-and-so. Lately he has sent several confidants with letters to my father asking that he would state his case to you as to the happenings when the five armies came upon Shu. Now he is at Hsinch❜êng, and, hearing you are attacking Wei, he proposes to lead the men of the three districts about Chinch'êng, Hsinch'êng and Shangyung to attack Loyang while you attack Ch‘angan, whereby both capitals will be taken. I have brought with me his messenger and his letters.”

This was good news, and the bearer was fittingly rewarded. But at that moment came the news that Ts‘ao Jui was leading an army to Ch‘angan and had recalled the banished Ssuma I to office. This piece of bad news saddened K‘ung-ming not a little. He told Ma Su, who at once proposed the plan to capture Ts‘ao Jui on the road, and there would be an end of him.

“Do you think I fear him?” said K‘ung-ming bitterly. “But the recall of Ssŭma I is another matter; that troubles me. And Mêng Ta’s proposal will avail nothing if he comes across this man. Mêng Ta is no match for him. He will be captured, and, if he should be, there will be no capital for us.”

“Why not put Mêng Ta on his guard then?” said Ma Su.

K‘ung-ming decided to write, and the letter was despatched immediately. Mêng was then at Hsinch'éng, anxiously expecting the return of his last confidential messenger, when, one day, the man returned and gave him this letter from K‘ung-ming himself:—

“Your last letter has convinced me of your loyal rectitude, and I still remember with joy our old friendship. If your plan succeed you will certainly stand in the first rank of most worthy ministers. But I scarcely need impress upon you the extreme necessity for most perfect secrecy. Be very careful whom you trust. Fear everyone, guard against everyone. This news of the recall of Ssŭma I and the proposed junction of armies at Ch‘angan is very serious, and if a word reaches Ssuma he will come to you first. Therefore take every precaution and do not regard this as a matter of unimportance.”

“They say K‘ung-ming leaves nothing to chance,” said Mêng, smiling as he read. “This proves it.”

He lost no time in preparing a reply, which he sent also by a trusty messenger. This letter was like this:—“I acknowledge your most valuable advice, but is it possible that I should be remiss? For my part I do not think the Ssǔma ​affair need cause anxiety, for Wanch'êng is eight hundred li from Loyang and twelve hundred li from here. Should he hear anything, it would take a month to send a memorial and get a reply. My ramparts here are strong and my forces posted in the best positions. Let him come! I am not afraid of the result, so you, O Minister, need feel no anxiety. You have only to wait for the good news of success.”

K‘ung-ming read the letter and threw it on the ground, stamping his foot with rage.

“You are a dead man,” said he; “a victim of Ssǔma I.”

“Why do you say that?” said Ma Su.

“What does the book say? 'Attack before the enemy is prepared; do what he does not expect.' What is the use of reckoning upon a month’s delay for sending up a memorial? Ts‘ao Jui’s commission has already gone and Ssuma may strike whom he will. He will not have to wait to memorialise. Ten days after he hears of Mêng’s defection he will be upon him with an army, and Mêng Ta will be helpless.”

The others agreed. However, K‘ung-ming sent the messenger back again to say that if the matter had not yet actually started no other person was to be told of it, for if anyone knew it would certainly come to nothing. And the man left for Hsinch'êng.

In his idle retreat in Wan City Ssuma had heard of his master’s ill-success against the armies of Shu, and the news made him very sad. He lifted up his eyes and sighed.

He had two sons, Shih the elder and Chao, both clever and ambitious, and both earnest students of military books. One day they were present when their father seemed very cast down, and the elder asked his father the reason.

“You would not understand,” said the father.

“I think you are grieving because the lord of Wei does not use you,” replied Ssŭma Shih.

“But they will send for you presently,” said the younger son.

The prophecy was not long in fulfilment, for even then the bearer of the command stood at the gate, and the servant announced a messenger from the court bearing a commission.

As soon as he heard its terms, Ssŭma set about ordering the armies of his own city. Soon came a messenger from the Prefect of Chinch'êng with a secret message for Ssuma I. He was taken into a private chamber, and his message was that Mêng Ta was on the point of rebellion. The authority for this was a confidential fried, Li Fu, and a nephew, Têng Hsien.

Ssŭma I smote his forehead.

“This is the Emperor’s great good fortune, high as heaven itself. Chuko Liang’s army is at Ch‘ishan already, and if he had got these places all men’s courage would fail. The Emperor must go to Ch‘angan, and if he does not use me soon ​Mêng Ta will carry out his plan; his plot will succeed and both capitals will be lost. This fellow is surely in league with the enemy, and if I can seize him before he makes any move, that will damp Chuko’s spirits and he will retreat.”

His elder son remarked that it would be necessary to memorialise.

“No,” replied his father; “that would take a month, and delay would mean failure.”

Ssǔma gave orders to prepare to advance by double marches and threatened death to all loiterers. In order to avert suspicion, he sent letters to Mêng Ta in Hsinch‘êng to tell him to prepare to join the expedition.

Ssŭma I quickly followed this messenger. After two days' march the general Hsü Huang came over the hills and told Ssŭma that the Emperor had arrived at Ch‘angan to lead an expedition against Shu, and he asked whither the Commanderin-chief was then going.

Ssŭma, in a low voice, said to him, “Mêng Ta is on the verge of rebellion, and I am going to seize him.”

“Let me go as your van-leader,” said Hsü. So Hsü Huang’s men were joined to the expedition and marched in the van. The sons of Ssŭma I brought up the rear.

Two days farther on some of the scouts captured Mêng Ta’s confidential messenger, and with him K‘ung-ming’s reply. Ssuma promised the man his life if he would tell all he knew. So he told all about the letters and messages he had taken from one to the other. When Ssuma read the captured letter he remarked that all able people thought the same way.

“Our plan would have been foiled by K‘ung-ming’s cleverness unless, by the good luck of the Emperor, this man had been captured. Now Mêng Ta will be helpless.”

The army pressed on still more rapidly.

Mêng Ta had arranged for his stroke with the Prefects of the other two cities and was awaiting the way he had fixed. But the other two, Shên I and Chên Ch'ên, were only pretending to abet him, although they went on training and drilling their men to keep up appearances till the men of Wei could arrive. To Mêng Ta they pretended delay in their transport as the reason for being unable to start. And he believed them.

Just then Liang Ch‘i came, and when he had been ceremoniously received, he produced the order from Ssuma I and said, “The Commander-in-chief has received the edict of the Emperor to call in all the forces in this district, and he has sent me to direct you to hold your men in readiness to march.”

“On what day does the Commander-in-chief start?” asked Mêng Ta.

“He is just about starting now,” replied the messenger.

​Mêng smiled inwardly, for, this being so, he saw success before him. He gave a banquet to Liang, and after he had set him on his way he sent to his fellow conspirators to say the first step must be taken next day by exchanging the banners of Wei for those of Han and marching to attack Loyang.

Then the watchmen reported a great cloud of dust in the distance as though an army was coming. Mêng Ta was surprised and went up on the ramparts to see for himself. Soon he made out the banner of Hsü Huang leading. He ran down from the wall and in a state of trepidation ordered the raising of the drawbridge. Hsü Huang still came on and in due time stood on the bank of the moat.

Then he called out, “Let the traitor Mêng Ta yield quickly!”

Mêng Ta, in a rage, opened upon him with arrows, and Hsü Huang was wounded in the forehead. He was helped to a place of safety while the arrows flew down in great numbers. When the men of Wei retired, Meng opened the gates and went in pursuit. But the whole of Ssuma’s army soon came up, and the banners stood so thick that they hid the sun.

“This is what K‘ung-ming foresaw,” said Mêng despairingly.

The gates were closed and barred.

Meanwhile the wounded captain, Hsü, had been borne to his tent, where the arrow head was extracted and the physician attended to him. But that night he died. He was fifty-nine. His body was sent to Loyang for burial.

Next day, when Mêng went up on the wall, he saw the city was entirely surrounded as with a girdle of iron. He was greatly perturbed and could not decide what to do. Presently he saw two bodies of troops coming up, their banners bearing the names of his fellow conspirators. He could only conclude that they had come to his help, so he opened the gates to them and went out to fight.

“Rebel, stay!” cried they both as they came up.

Realising that they had been false, he turned and galloped toward the city, but a flight of arrows met him, and the two who had betrayed him, Li Fu and Têng Hsien, began to revile him.

“We have already yielded the city,” they cried.

Then Mêng Ta fled. But he was pursued, and as he and his horse were both exhausted he was speedily overtaken and slain. They exposed his head, and his soldiers submitted. Ssuma was welcomed at the open gates. The people were pacified, the soldiers were rewarded and, this done, a report of their success was sent to Ts‘ao Jui.

Ts‘ao Jui ordered the body of Mêng Ta to be exposed in the market place of Loyang, and he promoted the two Shêns and gave them posts in the army of Ssuma. He gave the two betrayers command of the cities of Hsinch'êng and Shangyung.

​Then Ssǔma marched to Ch‘angan and camped. The leader entered the city to have audience with his master, by whom he was most graciously received.

“Once I doubted you,” said Ts‘ao Jui; “but then I did not understand, and I listened to mischief-makers. I regret it. You have preserved both capitals by the punishment of this traitor.”

Ssǔma replied, “Shên I gave the information of the intended revolt and thought to memorialise Your Majesty. But there would have been a long delay, and so I did not await orders, but set forth at once. Delay would have played into Chuko’s hands.”

Then he handed in K‘ung-ming’s letter to Mêng Ta, and when the Emperor had read that he said, “You are wiser than both the great strategists.”

He conferred upon the successful leader a pair of golden axes and the privilege of taking action in important matters without first obtaining his master’s sanction.

When the order was given to advance against the enemy, Ssŭma asked permission to name his leader of the van, and nominated Chang Ho.

“Just the man I wished to send,” said Ts‘ao Jui, smiling.

And Chang Ho was appointed.

The result of the campaign will appear in the next chapter.