Monkey (41 page)

‘How many are you ?’ asked Monkey.

‘Father,’ they said, ‘of the five hundred not half a one is missing.’

Monkey, with a twist of his body, resumed the hairs, and addressing himself to all present, he said, ‘It was I who released these priests. It was I who destroyed the carts and it was I who slew the two taskmasters. Now the whole pest has been extirpated and you see with your own eyes that Buddhism is the true way. Never again follow false doctrines nor follow foolish courses, but know that the Three Religions are one. Reverence priests, reverence Taoists too, and cultivate the faculties of man. I will see to it that these hills and streams are safe for ever.’

The king bowed his assent, confessing the deepest gratitude, and then escorted Tripitaka well beyond the city walls.

They travelled on for many days and autumn had already come when late one evening Tripitaka reined in his horse and said ‘Disciple, where are we going to halt tonight?’

‘Master,’ said Monkey, ‘that is a question for ordinary men to ask, not for such pilgrims as we.’

‘Wherein lies the difference?’ asked Tripitaka.

‘Ordinary people at this hour,’ said Monkey ‘are hugging their children or cuddling their wives in soft beds under warm coverlets, lying snug and comfortable as you please. But how can we pilgrims expect any such thing? By moonlight
or starlight on we must go, supping on the air and braving the wet, so long as the road lasts.’

‘Brother,’ said Pigsy, ‘you know your side of the question, but not mine. These roads are very hilly and with such a load as I am carrying it’s difficult going. I must find somewhere to get a bit of sleep and refresh myself, or I shan’t be able to manage this load tomorrow.’

‘We’ll go on a bit further, while the moon is still up,’ said Monkey, ‘and if we come to a house, we’ll stop.’ They had not gone far before they heard a noise of water.

‘Here we are!’ said Pigsy. ‘This is as far as the road goes.’

‘There’s a great river right in front of us,’ said Sandy.

‘We don’t know whether it’s deep or shallow,’ said Pigsy. ‘I’ll find out’

‘Think what you’re saying, Pigsy,’ said Tripitaka. ‘How can you find out whether water is deep ?’

‘By throwing a stone the size of a duck’s egg into the middle,’ said Pigsy. ‘If there is a splash and foam comes up, that means it’s shallow. If it goes down, down, down, with a gurgling sound, that means it is deep.’

Pigsy found a stone and threw it in. As it went down to the bottom, there was a gurgling sound and bubbles rose. ‘It’s very deep indeed,’ cried Pigsy. ‘We can’t go on.’

‘You’ve found out that it’s deep,’ said Tripitaka. ‘But we still don’t know how wide it is.’

‘True enough,’ said Pigsy.

‘Wait here,’ said Monkey, ‘while I go and have a look.’ He sprang into the air and peered with steady eyes. A vast expanse of water spread out in the moonlight. It seemed to go on for ever. There was no trace of a further shore. ‘Master,’ he said, lowering his cloud, ‘it’s very wide. You know that I have fiery, steely eyes, and even by night can see five hundred leagues. But now I cannot see the further shore. How can I measure how wide it is ?’

‘Dear disciple, what then are we to do?’ said Tripitaka, sobs choking his words.

‘Master,’ said Sandy, ‘don’t break down. Isn’t that a man that I see standing over there by the water ?’

‘It looks to me like a fisherman dragging his nets. I’ll
go and talk to him’ said Monkey. He had not gone far when there loomed up in front of him not a man, but a stone monument. On it was written ‘The River that leads to Heaven’, and in smaller writing below, “The way across is eight hundred leagues. Few are those that have reached the far side’.

‘Come over here and look’ said Monkey. When Tripitaka read the inscription, he burst again into tears. ‘Disciple’ he sobbed, ‘when I left the Capital, I thought it an easy matter to go to India. Little I knew that at every turn demons would bar my path, and endless rivers and mountains have to be crossed.’

‘Listen,’ said Pigsy, ‘isn’t that the sound of cymbals? Somewhere priests are being feasted. If we get there in time we shall be able to join in the feast. Perhaps they will be able to tell us if there is a ford anywhere or a ferry, so that tomorrow we can get across.’ Tripitaka could now hear the sound distinctly. ‘That is certainly not Taoist music’ he said. ‘I am sure that Buddhists are performing.’ They set off in the direction of the sound, and presently saw a village of several hundred well-built houses. At the top of the street they saw a house with a flag hoisted outside the gate. The courtyard blazed with torches and a heavy smell of incense came towards them. ‘Well’ said Tripitaka, ‘that looks better than the hollow of a hill-side or a river bank. Under such substantial eaves we can at least count on being warm and getting a little quiet sleep. You’d better not come with me. I’ll go in and explain. If they say I may stay, I’ll call you in. If we can’t stay you’re not to rage and swear. I don’t want the people to see you to start with, because you are not very good to look at, and if they take fright we shall have nowhere to stay.’

Tripitaka took off his broad-brimmed hat, and bareheaded, with staff in hand, he went up to the door. He found it ajar but did not dare go straight in. When he had waited for a moment, an old man came out, with a rosary hanging at his breast, mumbling his prayers as he came.

‘Aged benefactor’ said Tripitaka politely, ‘I should like to ask you a few questions.’

‘You’ve arrived rather late,’ said the old man.

‘How do you mean ?’ said Tripitaka.

‘Well, you’ve come too late to get anything much,’ said he. “The priests whom we are entertaining have each been given as much rice as they could eat, three hundred measures to take away, a strip of white cloth, and ten pieces of copper cash. It’s a pity you’ve come when you have.’

‘Aged benefactor,’ said Tripitaka, ‘I did not come because of the feast.’

‘Then why did you come ?’ asked the old man.

‘I am from China and am going to fetch scriptures from India,’ said Tripitaka. ‘Night overtook me when I was near your exalted abode, and hearing a sound of Buddhist music I have come to ask you whether I may lodge here tonight.’

‘Sir,’ said the old man, ‘it is incumbent upon those who have left the world to adhere strictly to truth. Are you aware that China is 54,000 leagues away? You cannot pretend that you have come that distance, travelling all alone.’

‘Aged benefactor, you are right,’ said Tripitaka. ‘But I have three disciples who have helped me over mountains and across rivers, and constantly mounted guard over me. Otherwise I should never have got here.’

‘Where are they?’ said the old man. ‘Please ask them to come in and rest.’

Tripitaka turned and called to his disciples.

Monkey was by nature too restless, Pigsy too coarse, and Sandy too simple to need a second bidding. Leading the horse and shouldering the luggage they came tumbling in, without a thought for what might come of it. The old man was so frightened that he fell flat upon the ground, mumbling: ‘There are demons in the yard, demons!’

‘Aged benefactor,’ said Tripitaka, dragging him to his feet, ‘you need not be afraid. These are not demons; they are my disciples.’

‘How comes it,’ he asked trembling, ‘that a nice-looking gentleman like yourself has managed to get such monsters for his disciples?’

‘I know they are ugly,’ said Tripitaka, ‘but they are very good at subduing dragons and tigers and capturing ogres.’

The old man, only half reassured, walked on slowly, supported by Tripitaka. In the courtyard were some priests reciting the scriptures. ‘What’s that you are reading?’ cried Pigsy, raising his long snout. Suddenly catching sight of these three terrifying apparitions the priests leapt up and fled in utter panic, upsetting the Buddhist images, stumbling, crawling, and banging into one another. Highly diverted by this spectacle the three disciples clapped their hands and roared with laughter. More frightened than ever, the priests now ran for their lives. ‘You wretches,’ cried Tripitaka, ‘you’ve spoilt everything. No one would think that I have been teaching you and preaching to you in season and out for all these months. The ancients said, “To be virtuous without instruction is superhuman. To be virtuous after instruction is reasonable. To be instructed and remain incorrigible is to be a fool.” You three have just shown yourselves to be fools of the very lowest description. Fancy charging in at the gate like that, without any regard for what was going on inside, frightening our benefactor, scaring away the priests who were reading the scriptures, and spoiling the whole ceremony! Don’t you see that it is I who will bear the blame for all this ?’

Thus addressed, they did not dare reply, which fortunately convinced the old man that they were indeed his disciples. ‘It’s of no consequence,’ he said, bowing to Tripitaka. ‘We were just going to remove the lamps, scatter the flowers and terminate the proceedings.’

‘Well, if you have finished the service,’ said Pigsy, ‘bring out the end-of-service wine and victuals, and we’ll sup before we go to bed.’ Just then the inner door opened and another old man came out, leaning on a staff. ‘What devils are these,’ he asked, ‘who have come to our pious doors in the black of night?’ The first old man rose quickly, and going to meet him said, ‘Brother, calm yourself! They are not devils, but saints going to India to fetch Scriptures. The three disciples might well be better to look at; but they are good fellows.’ The second old man laid down his staff and bowed to the pilgrims. Then he sat down and called for tea. He had to call several times. At last, in great trepidation, several servants came in, peering anxiously at the visitors.

‘What are those fellows up to?’ asked Pigsy.

‘I’ve told them to fetch refreshments for your Reverence,’ said the old man.

‘How many men will serve us ?’ asked Pigsy.

‘Eight,’ said the old man.

‘Who are they going to serve ?’ asked Pigsy.

‘All of you,’ said the old man.

‘That pasty-faced Master of ours does not need more than one,’ said Pigsy. ‘That hairy-faced fellow can get on with two. That swarthy one needs eight to himself, and I can’t do with less than twenty.’

‘You must have a very big appetite,’ said the old man.

‘You’ll soon see for yourself,’ said Pigsy.

‘I’m not short of men,’ said he; and big and little, thirty or forty men were found to serve. When the pilgrims had conversed amiably with the two old men for some time everyone began to feel somewhat reassured. Tripitaka was put in the seat of honour, and before using his chopsticks began to recite the Fast-Breaking Scripture. Pigsy was in a hurry to begin, and without waiting for the end of grace, he snatched up a red lacquer wooden bowl, filled it with white rice, and tilted it straight down his throat. Not a grain was left. A servant standing near him was much astonished. ‘This reverend gentleman’s doing things in the wrong order,’ he said. ‘Why does he help himself to rice before helping himself to dough nut ? Won’t he mess his clothes ?’

‘I didn’t help myself to it,’ said Pigsy, laughing. ‘I ate it.’

‘You didn’t use your jaws,’ said the servant. ‘How can you have eaten it ?’

‘What nonsense you fellows talk,’ said Pigsy. ‘Of course I ate it, and if you are in any doubt, watch me while I do it again.’ They filled his bowl again and that fool Pigsy in a flash had gulped it all down.

‘Father,’ they cried, ‘you must have a grindstone in your throat. How else can all that go down so quickly and smooth-

By the time Tripitaka had finished reading grace, he had got through six bowls. When the others started their meal, he continued to stuff himself witn rice, bread, fruit, sweets,
everything he could ky hands on. ‘More, morel’ he was soon calling to the servants. ‘What has become of you all?’

‘Don’t be so greedy, brother,’ said Monkey. ‘If you only eat half your fill, it will still be better than you have fared lately in a hollow of the hills.’

‘Mind your own business,’ said Pigsy. “The proverb says “Better bury a priest alive than stop him getting his fill.”‘

‘Clear the things away,’ cried Monkey, ‘and don’t take any notice of him.’

‘I am very sorry,’ said their host, ‘but it’s getting late and we had only steamed a ton of flour, five bushels of rice, and a load or two of vegetables. We had meant to invite some neighbours and the priests who read the service. The priests, as you know, ran away and we did not venture to invite our neighbours, so that we were able to offer you a humble meal. If you have not had enough, I’ll order more rice to be steamed.’

‘That’s right,’ said Pigsy,’ get it steamed.’

Meanwhile the old men turned to Tripitaka and asked, ‘What made you turn aside from the main road?’

‘We came to a river,’ said Monkey, ‘and there seemed to be no way of getting across. So hearing a sound of cymbals coming from your house, we decided to come here and ask for a night’s lodging.’

‘Did you notice anything on the river bank ?’

‘All we saw was a monument,’ said Monkey.

‘Well, if you went and looked again, not much more than a league from there, you would come to the temple of the Great King of Miracles. Did you happen to see it?’

‘We did not,’ said Monkey. ‘Pray, what are the miracles in question?’

‘Father,’ said the old man, ‘it is this Great King who year by year sends us rain in due season and blesses us with fertility.’ As he spoke he wept bitterly.