Monkey (20 page)

Tripitaka was glad to accept, and set out in company with the hunter. When they had crossed the neighbouring ridge, there came once more the sound of fierce growling. ‘That’s a
“mountain-cat” coming,’ said the hunter. ‘You sit here, and I will catch it for supper.’ Tripitaka was again transfixed by fright. The hunter seized his spear and striding forward began to stalk the tiger. Suddenly a great striped tiger sprang right in his face. Tripitaka, who was entirely unused to watching such dangerous encounters, was once more on the verge of collapse. Man and tiger contended at the foot of the slope for about an hour. At last the creature began to tire, and the hunter was able to dispatch it by a thrust right through the chest. Dragging it away by the ear from the pool of blood in which it lay, the hunter without showing the slightest sign of concern hauled it to the road, remarking casually, ‘This is a bit of luck. Here is meat enough to last you for several days.’

Tripitaka was lost in admiration. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘you are a veritable god of the mountains!’

‘I think that is going too far,’ said the hunter. ‘It was a very simple matter!’ Then with a spear in one hand, and dragging the dead tiger with the other, he set out upon the road, followed by Tripitaka leading the horse.

They soon came to a mountain farm. At the gate, the hunter let go of the tiger and called to the farm-hands to come and carry it inside, skin it and get it prepared for cooking. ‘For I have a guest,’ he said. Then he brought Tripitaka in and presented him to his mother, explaining that he was a priest of great piety, who was on a mission to fetch Scriptures from India. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said, ‘is the anniversary of your father’s death. Let us ask his reverence to say a Mass, recite a scripture or two, and then start off again the next day.’ The hunter, though a rough, burly tiger-slayer, was very attentive to his mother, and as soon as she made this suggestion he ordered incense-paper to be prepared, and prevailed upon Tripitaka to spend the next day at the farm. It was now getting late, and the farm-hands set out tables and brought in several dishes of cooked tiger-flesh which they laid all sizzling in front of their master and his guest.

‘I must tell you,’ said Tripitaka, ‘that I was admitted to the Order almost as soon as I left my mother’s womb, and have never in my life indulged in meats of this kind.’

The hunter thought for a while. ‘My family,’ he said at last,’ has on the contrary for generations past been accustomed to eat meat. So what are we to do ? I am sorry to have asked you to do what your conscience forbids.’

“There is no need to worry,’ broke in the hunter’s mother, ‘we can easily make him a vegetarian dish.’

And she told her daughter-in-law to boil some rice and make a salad. The hunter, removing himself to some distance, sat down to a meal of tiger’s flesh, unseasoned and unsalted, with serpent’s flesh, fox-flesh, rabbit and strips of dried venison, served in high-piled dishes. He was just beginning, and had hardly raised his chopsticks, when he saw that Tripitaka, his palms pressed together, was reciting what he took to be some passage from a holy book. Very much taken aback, the hunter dropped his chopsticks and rose to his feet. But after reciting only a few sentences, Tripitaka announced that he was ready to be served.

‘That was a very short scripture,’ said the hunter.

‘It wasn’t a scripture,’ said Tripitaka. ‘I was saying grace.’

‘You priests certainly have some queer ways,’ said the hunter. ‘One would think you could at least take a meal without saying your prayers.’

After dinner the hunter took him to a thatched building at the back of the house. The walls were hung with bows, arrows, slings and the like, and over a beam hung two fetid, bloody tiger-skins. The hunter invited him to take a seat, but Tripitaka was very ill at ease in the presence of these gruesome and forbidding objects and hurried out of the building. They soon came to a large paddock, where great masses of chrysanthemums piled their gold and maples blazed their crimson. The hunter called, and ten fat deer sprang out of the bushes and not at all disconcerted by the arrival of human beings, came up nuzzling and gambolling.

“These no doubt are creatures that you have tamed,’ said Tripitaka.

‘Yes,’ said the hunter. ‘Just as in Ch’ang-an people lay up stores of money, and farmers lay up stores of grain, so we hunters must always keep a few tame beasts, as a provision against dark days.’

Immediately after breakfast next day, the whole household assembled and Tripitaka was asked to begin his recitation. He washed his hands, and assisted by the hunter burnt incense in front of the house-shrine, then bowing to the house-shrine he beat on his wooden fish, and after reciting spells for the purification of the mouth and the body, he read a text on the salvation of souls. After this the hunter asked him to write a prayer-slip for the salvation of the dead, and he recited parts of the Diamond Cutter Scripture and the Scripture of Kuan-yin, each in a clear and loud voice. After the midday meal he recited chapters from the Lotus Scripture and the Scripture of Amitabha, and then told the story of the monks washing away their evil karma. As the day drew on, he burned further incense, along with paper horses and prayer-slips. When all was over, they went to bed.

That night the soul of the hunter’s father appeared in dream to every member of the household, saying that he had for long been striving in vain to escape from the torments of the lower world. Now, thanks to the prayers and recitations of this pious priest, the evil karma that restrained him was wiped away, and Yama had ordered that he should be reborn as the child of a rich landowner. He asked them to tender his warmest thanks to his benefactor.

When the hunter’s wife told him of her dream, it turned out that he too had had a similar dream. Presently his mother came along, saying that she had something to tell him. They both burst out laughing when she told them her dream, which was the same as their own. The whole household was then roused and all in chorus thronged round him, saying, ‘Reverend Sir, we cannot sufficiently express to you our gratitude. You have saved the soul of our late master.’

‘I cannot think that anything I have done can deserve such thanks,’ said Tripitaka. They told him of the dreams, and he was indeed delighted. They asked him to accept silver, but he absolutely refused. ‘If you will have the goodness to escort me on the first stage of the journey,’ he said, ‘that will be ample recompense.’

The women hurriedly made ready some dried provisions, and the hunter, taking with him a few servants, all armed with
their hunting gear, set out with Tripitaka upon the highway. Mountain scenery of indescribable beauty stretched out before them. Towards noon they came to a gigantic mountain, up which Tripitaka began to clamber with great pains, while the hunter sprang up it as though he had been walking on flat ground. Halfway up the hunter halted, and turning to Tripitaka, he said, ‘I fear at this point we must part.’

‘I entreat you to take me just one stage farther,’ begged Tripitaka.

‘Sir,’ said the hunter, ‘you do not know. This mountain is called the Mountain of the Two Frontiers. Its east side belongs to our land of T’ang; on the west side lies the land of the Tartars. The wolves and tigers on the far side I have not subjected, moreover I have not the right to cross the frontier. You must go on alone.’

Tripitaka wrung his hands in despair, clutched at the hunter’s sleeve and wept copiously. At this point there came from under the mountain a stentorian voice, crying repeatedly, ‘The Master has come.’ Both Tripitaka and the hunter started, in great surprise. If you do not know whose voice it was they heard, listen to what is told in the next chapter.

T
HE
hunter and Tripitaka were still wondering who had spoken, when again they heard the voice saying, ‘The Master has come.’

The hunter’s servants said, ‘That is the voice of the old monkey who is shut up in the stone casket of the mountain side.’

‘Why, to be sure it is!’ said the hunter.

‘What old monkey is that ?’ asked Tripitaka.

‘This mountain,’ said the hunter, ‘was once called the Mountain of the Five Elements. But after our great T’ang Dynasty had carried out its campaigns to the West, its name was changed to Mountain of the Two Frontiers. Years ago a very old man told me that at the time when Wang Mang overthrew the First Han Dynasty, Heaven dropped this mountain in order to imprison a magic monkey under it. He has local spirits as his gaolers, who, when he is hungry, give him iron pills to eat, and when he is thirsty give him copper-juice to drink, so that despite cold and short commons he is still alive. That cry certainly comes from him. You need not be uneasy. We’ll go down and have a look.’

After going downhill for some way they came to the stone box, in which there was really a monkey. Only his head was visible, and one paw, which he waved violently through the opening, saying, ‘Welcome, Master! Welcome! Get me out of here, and I will protect you on your journey to the West.’

The hunter stepped boldly up, and removing the grasses from Monkey’s hair and brushing away the grit from under his chin,’ What have you got to say for yourself?’ he asked.

‘To you, nothing,’ said Monkey. ‘But I have something to ask of that priest. Tell him to come here.’

‘What do you want to ask me ?’ said Tripitaka.

‘Were you sent by the Emperor of T’ang to look for Scriptures in India ?’ asked Monkey.

‘I was,’ said Tripitaka. ‘And what of that?’

‘I am the Great Sage Equal of Heaven,’ said Monkey. ‘Five hundred years ago I made trouble in the Halls of Heaven, and Buddha clamped me down in this place. Not long ago the Bodhisattva Kuan-yin, whom Buddha had ordered to look around for someone to fetch Scriptures from India, came here and promised me that if I would amend my ways and faithfully protect the pilgrim on his way, I was to be released, and afterwards would find salvation. Ever since then I have been waiting impatiently night and day for you to come and let me out. I will protect you while you are going to get Scriptures and follow you as your disciple.’

Tripitaka was delighted. ‘The only trouble is,’ he said, ‘that I have no axe or chisel, so how am I to get you out ?’

‘There is no need for axe or chisel,’ said Monkey. ‘You have only to want me to be out, and I shall be out.’

‘How can that be ?’ asked Tripitaka.

‘On the top of the mountain,’ said Monkey,’ is a seal stamped with golden letters by Buddha himself. Take it away, and I shall be out.’

Tripitaka was for doing so at once, but the hunter took him aside and said there was no telling whether one could believe the monkey or not. ‘It’s true, it’s true!’ screamed Monkey from inside the casket. At last the hunter was prevailed upon to come with him and, scrambling back again to the very top, they did indeed see innumerable beams of golden light streaming from a great square slab of rock, on which was imprinted in golden letters the inscription O
M
M
ANI
P
ADME
H
UM.

Tripitaka knelt down and did reverence to the inscription, saying, ‘If this monkey is indeed worthy to be a disciple, may this imprint be removed and may the monkey be released and accompany me to the seat of Buddha. But if he is not fit to be a disciple, but an unruly monster who would discredit my undertaking, may the imprint of this seal remain where it is.’ At once there came a gust of fragrant wind that carried the six letters of the inscription up into the air, and a voice was heard saying, ‘I am the Great Sage’s gaoler. Today the time of
his penance is ended and I am going to ask Buddha to let him loose.’ Having bowed reverently in the direction from which the voice came, Tripitaka and the hunter went back to the stone casket and said to Monkey, ‘The inscription is removed. You can come out.’

‘You must go to a little distance,’ said Monkey. ‘I don’t want to frighten you.’

They withdrew a little way, but heard Monkey calling to them ‘Farther, farther 1’ They did as they were bid, and presently heard a tremendous crushing and rending. They were all in great consternation, expecting the mountain to come hurtling on top of them, when suddenly the noise subsided, and Monkey appeared, kneeling in front of Tri-pitaka’s horse, crying, ‘Master, I am outl’ Then he sprang up and called to the hunter, ‘Brother, I’ll trouble you to dust the grass-wisps from my cheek.’ Then he put together the packs and hoisted them on to the horse, which on seeing him became at once completely obedient. For Monkey had been a groom in Heaven, and it was natural that an ordinary horse should hold him in great awe.

Tripitaka, seeing that he knew how to make himself useful and looked as though he would make a pretty tolerable sramana, said to him, ‘Disciple, we must give you a name in religion.’

‘No need for that,’ said Monkey, ‘I have one already. My name in religion is “Aware-of-Vacuity”.’

‘Excellent!’ said Tripitaka, ‘That fits in very well with the names of my other disciples. You shall be Monkey Aware-of-Vacuity.’

The hunter, seeing that Monkey had got everything ready, said to Tripitaka, ‘I am very glad you have been fortunate enough to pick up this excellent disciple. As you are so well provided for, I will bid you good-bye and turn back.’

‘I have brought you a long way from home,’ said Tripitaka, ‘and cannot thank you enough. Please also apologize to your mother and.wife for all the trouble I gave, and tell them I will thank them in person on my return.’