CHAPTER 37 

The Royal Ghost Visits the Tang Priest at Night; Wukong’s Magic Transformation Lures the Boy

Sanzang sat in the meditation hall of the Precious Wood Monastery reading the Litany of Emperor Wu of Liang and the Peacock Sutra until the third watch, when he finally put the scriptures back into their bags. Just when he was about to go to bed he heard a rushing noise and the whistling of a fiendish wind. Fearing that it would blow out his lamp, the venerable elder shielded the lamp with his sleeve as quickly as he could. To his consternation the lamp kept going on and off. By now he was so tired that he pillowed his head on the reading desk and took a nap. Although he had closed his eyes and was dozing, his mind stayed wide awake as he listened to the howling of the devil wind outside the window. It was a splendid wind. Indeed, there were

Soughs and whistles,

Much scudding away.

It soughs and whistles, carrying the fallen leaves,

Blows the clouds scudding away.

All the stars in the sky go dark,

And the earth is covered with flying dust.

Sometimes fierce,

Sometimes gentle.

When it blows gentle, pine and bamboo sound clear;

When it blows fierce, the lakes have turbid waves.

The mountain birds grieve, unable to reach their perches;

The fish jump restlessly in the ocean.

Doors and windows blow off the halls,

Spirits and demons glare in the side-rooms.

All the vases in the Buddha hall crash to the ground;

The glass lamp is shaken loose and the flame blows out.

Incense-ash scatters as the burner tilts,

The candles flare when their stand leans over.

All the banners and hangings are torn,

As bell and drum towers are shaken to their roots.

As the wind died down for a while, the elder in his dozy state heard a muffled voice from outside the meditation hall. He looked up, and in his dream he saw a man standing there soaking wet who was weeping and saying “Master” over and over again.

Sanzang bowed towards him from his seat and said, “You must be a fiend, or a goblin, or an evil spirit or a monster trying to trick me in the middle of the night. But I’m not one given to desire or anger. I’m an upright monk on a pilgrimage to the West at the command of the Tang emperor of the East to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. I have three disciples who are all demon-quelling, monster-exterminating heroes. If they see you they will smash your body and bones to bits and pulverize you. But I am full of great compassion and will do what is expedient for you. Make yourself scarce this moment and never come into my meditation hall again.”

The person stayed there and replied, “Master, I’m not a demon or a ghost or a fiend or an evil spirit.”

“If you’re none of these,” said Sanzang, “what are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

“Take a good look at me, Master,” he said. When Sanzang took a really careful look he saw to his surprise that

On his head he wore a heaven-touching hat,

And round his waist a belt of blue-green jade.

Dragons and phoenixes danced on his ochre robe;

His no-worry shoes were embroidered with clouds.

The white jade scepter he held was arrayed with constellations.

His face was like the eternal Emperor of Mount Tai,

His form like Wenchang, god of officialdom.

At the sight of him Sanzang turned pale with shock. He bowed at once and called out at the top of his voice, “Which monarch are you, Your Majesty? Please be seated.” He hurried over to support the monarch, only to find he was holding on to thin air. He looked again and saw that the man was still there.

“Your Majesty,” said Sanzang, “which king are you? What country do you rule? I suppose that you must have fled here in the middle of the night because your country is in chaos or because you are being put upon by malicious ministers. Tell me your story.”

Only then did the man tell what had happened, the tears streaming down his cheeks and his forehead creased with frowns. “Father,” he said, “I live only some fifteen miles to the west of here, in the walled city where my dynasty was founded.”

“What is it called?” Sanzang asked.

“I’m telling you the truth, Father,” he replied. “When I established my regime I changed the name of the state to Wuji.”

“But why is Your Majesty in this terrible distress?” Sanzang continued.

“Father,” the other said, “there was a drought here five years ago so bad that no vegetation grew and the people were dying of starvation. It was appalling.”

Hearing this Sanzang nodded and said with a smile, “Your Majesty, there’s an old saying that Heaven favours a well-governed country. I expect that you were not merciful towards your subjects. Even if there is a famine you have no business to flee from your city. Go back, open up your granaries, and give the people relief. Repent of your past sins and be good from now on. Pardon all those who have been wrongly condemned. Heaven’s heart will of itself be moved in harmony, and wind and rains will come as they should.”

“But our granaries were empty,” the other said. “We had no money or grain left. The salaries of the officials and the military were in default, and we were eating no meat with our royal meals. We followed the example of Yu the Great when he brought the waters under control, sharing weal and woe with our subjects, taking baths to purify ourself, fasting, burning incense and praying day and night. This went on for three years, but the drought continued to be so bad that the rivers and wells dried up. Just when the crisis was desperate a Quanzhen Taoist wizard came from the Zhongnan Mountains. He could summon wind and rain, and turn stones to gold with a touch. First he went to see our civil and military officials, and then he came to see us. We invited him to come to the altar to pray, and he got results. Wherever he pointed his magic wand there would be a torrential downpour. We thought that three feet of rain would be sufficient, but he said that it would not be enough to restore fertility after so long a time and gave an extra two inches of rain. Seeing how generous he was we kowtowed to him and took him as our sworn brother.”

“Then Your Majesty is extremely fortunate,” said Sanzang.

“In what way?” the other asked.

“If that Quanzhen wizard has the powers to make it rain whenever you like and you can get him to turn things to gold at will, then what is so terrible that you have to flee here from your city?”

“We only ate at the same table and slept in the same room for two years. Then one spring day when the red apricot and the peach tree were in blossom all the gentlemen, ladies and princes went out to enjoy the beauty of the season. After the civil and military officials had returned to their offices and the royal spouses and concubines gone back to their quarters we were strolling hand-in-hand with the wizard in the palace garden. When we reached the eight-sided well with a glazed-tile top he threw something into the well—we don’t know what it was—that made it shine with golden light. Luring us to the edge of the well to look at this treasure he had the murderous notion of pushing us in with a splash and placing a flagstone over the top of the well. He piled earth over this then put in a plantain on top of it. So we have already been dead for three years, alas. We are the ghost of one who was wickedly murdered by being pushed down a well.”

On learning that he was a ghost the Tang Priest felt weak all over, and his hairs stood on end. But he had to bring himself to continue his questioning. “Your Majesty, what you say is all wrong. If you have been dead for three years, why didn’t the civil and military officials or your queens go looking for you when they attended court for audiences with Your Majesty?”

“Father,” the ghost replied, “his powers are ones rarely seen in the world. As soon as he had killed us he shook himself and turned into an identical likeness of us. Now he is the master of our country, the secret thief of our territory. Our civil and military officials, the four hundred courtiers, the three queens and the consorts and concubines of the six compounds all now belong to him.”

“You are a coward, Your Majesty,” said Sanzang.

“How are we a coward?” the ghost asked.

“Your Majesty,” said Sanzang, “even if the monster has the magic powers to turn into your double and steal your kingdom, undetected by your civil and military officials or by your queens and consorts, so that only you know the truth and you are dead, why have you not brought a case against him in the Underworld court of King Yama? There you could lodge a complaint and complain of the wrongs you have suffered.”

“But his magic powers are so extensive and he is so well in with all the relevant officials,” replied the ghost. “He’s always drinking with the city god, and he’s connected with all the dragon kings. The Heaven-equaling God of Mount Tai is a friend of his, and all the Ten Kings of the Underworld are his sworn brothers. We have nowhere to turn if we want to bring a case against him.”

“Your Majesty,” said Sanzang, “if you are powerless to bring a case against him in the Underworld then why come to the world of the living?”

“Father,” the other replied, “as a ghost of a man unjustly killed I would never have dared call upon you. Outside the monastery gates are the heavenly kings who Protect the Law, the Six Dings and the Six Jias, the Protectors of Five Quarters, the Four Duty Gods, and the Eighteen Guardians of the Faith, all with their horses saddled up. It was only a magic wind created by the Patroller of the Night that brought me here. He said that my three years of suffering were due to end and sent me to pay my respects to you, Father. He told me that your senior disciple is the Great Sage Equaling Heaven and that he is a very powerful killer of monsters and subduer of demons. I am here tonight to plead with you and beg you to come to my country, capture the evil monster, and expose his wickedness. We will be deeply grateful and repay you, Master, for your great kindness.”

“Your Majesty,” said Sanzang, “Have you come to ask that my disciple should go to rid you of this fiend?”

“Yes, that’s right,” the other replied.

“That disciple of mine is good for little else,” said Sanzang, “but subduing demons and capturing monsters is right up his alley. The only thing is, Your Majesty, that even if he’s given the job he may not be able to carry it out.”

“Why not?” the ghost asked.

“Well,” said Sanzang, “That fiend must have stupendous magical powers if he can make himself so much like you that all the civil and military officials at court are happy with him and every one of the consorts and concubines in your harem is fond of him. Even though my disciple has some magic powers he should most certainly not resort to arms lightly. If he is captured and charged with high treason we will be thrown into jail. Then everything will be ruined.”

“But I still have someone I can trust at court,” the ghost said.

“That’s splendid,” said Sanzang, “quite splendid. No doubt it’s a prince or a high official who was sent off to command a garrison somewhere.”

“No,” replied the ghost, “it’s my son the crown prince who lives in my own palace.”

“But surely the crown prince must have been banished by that fiend.”

“No, he hasn’t been,” the ghost replied. “He spends his time in the throne hall and the Tower of Five Phoenixes studying with learned scholars or sitting beside that wizard on the throne. For the last three years the crown prince has been banned from the queen’s palace and prevented from seeing Her Majesty.”

“Why?” Sanzang asked.

“It has all been planned by that fiend,” said the ghost. “If the prince and his mother were to meet and start talking about things the truth would get out. He can only keep that throne if the two of them don’t meet.”

“Your troubles, like mine, must have been sent from Heaven,” said Sanzang. “My father was murdered by pirates, one of whom seized my mother. Three months later I was born. I escaped with my life on the river and was rescued by my benefactor, the abbot of the Jinshan Monastery, who brought me up. I remember what it was like to be an orphan child, so I feel very sorry for a crown prince who has lost both his parents. But even though you still have your crown prince in the palace, how ever will I be able to see him?”

“What would stop you?” the ghost asked.

“If he is under such close control from the fiends,” Sanzang replied, “that he can’t even see his own mother, how will a mere monk like myself get to see him?”

“He will be going out tomorrow,” said the ghost.

“Why?” Sanzang asked.

“After tomorrow’s dawn audience,” said the ghost, “he will lead three thousand people riding out of the city with falcons and hounds to go hunting. You will certainly be able to see him. When you do, tell him everything that I have told you and he’ll trust you.”

“But he is only a mortal,” replied Sanzang. “The fiend has him fooled in the palace, and he calls the fiend father several times a day. Why should he believe anything I say?”

“In case he doesn’t I’ll give you something that will be visible proof,” said the ghost.

“What?” asked Sanzang.

The ghost set down the gold-bordered white jade scepter he was holding and said, “This will be proof.”

“Why?” asked Sanzang.

“When the wizard made himself look just like me,” the ghost replied, “there was one treasure he failed to copy. After he went back to the palace he said that the wizard has stolen it, and for the last three years it has been missing. If the crown prince sees it he will be reminded of me and I shall be able to take my revenge.”

“Very well then,” said Sanzang, “I shall keep it and send my disciple to sort things out for you. Will you wait for the crown prince there?”

“I dare not stay there myself,” said the ghost. “I shall have to ask the Patroller of the Night to send another magic wind to blow me into the palace harem to appear in a dream to my first queen to tell her to co-operate with our son, with you, Father, and with your disciples.”

Sanzang nodded and agreed. “Off you go then.”

The ghost of the murdered monarch kowtowed to take his leave. Sanzang was just stepping forward to see the ghost out when he tripped and went sprawling, giving himself such a fright that he woke up. So it had all been a dream. In the dim lamplight he called, “Disciples!” with alarm.

“What’s he going on about ‘trifles, trifles’ for?” muttered Bajie as he woke up. “How happy I used to be in the old days. I was a real tough guy. I lived on nothing but human flesh and I always ate my fill of it. You would have to be a monk and make us protect you on your journey. You told me I’d be a monk, but now you treat me more like your slave. I have to carry your baggage and lead your horse all day, and empty your chamber-pot and lie at the foot of your bed to warm your feet by night. You never let me get any sleep. Why are you calling for me now?”

“Disciple,” said Sanzang, “I had a strange dream when I dozed off with my head on the table just now.”

“Master,” said Wukong, springing to his feet, “dreams come from the imagination. You get frightened of demons before you’ve even started to climb a mountain. You worry if you will ever reach the Thunder Monastery as it’s so far away; and you miss Chang’an and wonder when you’ll ever get back there. That’s why you’re so full of anxieties and dreams. Now I’m sincere and single-minded about going to the West to see the Buddha: no dreams ever come to me.”

“Disciple,” said Sanzang, “this dream of mine was no dream of home. No sooner had I closed my eyes than a great wind blew up and a king appeared outside the doors of the meditation hall. He said he was the monarch of the land of Wuji. He was soaking wet and in floods of tears.” Sanzang was just about to tell Pilgrim Sun all about the dream and everything he had been told in it.

“No need to tell me any more,” said Wukong. “He came to see you in a dream and was evidently bringing me some business. No doubt some fiend has usurped his throne. I’ll have it out with the fiend. I’m sure I’ll succeed the moment my cudgel hits him.”

“But he told me that the fiend has tremendous magic powers,” warned Sanzang.

“Tremendous, my eye!” said Wukong. “As soon as he realizes that I’ve arrived he’ll regret having nowhere to flee to.”

“I remember that the king also left me a treasure as proof,” said Sanzang.

“Don’t talk such nonsense,” replied Bajie. “If you had a dream, that was that. Why all this chitchat?”

“ ‘Don’t trust what seems to be straighter than straight, and beware that kindness is not really unkindness,’ ” put in Friar Sand. “Let’s strike a light, open the doors, and see what we can see.”

So Pilgrim Sun opened the doors, and when they all looked outside they saw by the light of the moon and the stars that a gold-bordered white jade scepter was indeed lying by the side of the steps.

“What’s this, brother?” asked Bajie as he went over and picked it up.

“It’s a treasure called a jade scepter that a monarch holds in his hands,” said Wukong, “and it makes me believe, Master, that the story’s true. I’ll take full responsibility for capturing the fiend tomorrow. But there are three favours I’ll want you to do me.”

“This is great,” said Bajie, “really great. First you have a dream, then you have to tell him about it. He tricks people at every turn. Now he’s asking you for three favours.”

Going back inside, Sanzang asked, “What three favours?”

“Tomorrow I want you to suffer on my behalf, be put upon, and catch a fever,” said Wukong.

“Any one of them would be bad enough,” smirked Bajie. “I couldn’t possibly take on all three.” Being an intelligent elder, the Tang Priest asked his disciple to explain why he wanted these three things done.

“There’ll be no need for explanations,” said Wukong. “Let me first give you a couple of things.”

The splendid Great Sage plucked out a hair, blew a magic breath on it, called “Change!” and turned it into a box of red and gold lacquer into which he placed the white jade scepter. “Master,” he said, “at dawn tomorrow you must put on your golden cassock and sit in the main hall of the monastery reciting scriptures with the box in your hands while I go and give that city the once-over. If he really is an evil spirit I’ll kill him, and that will be one more good deed to my credit. If he isn’t, then we won’t get ourselves into trouble.”

“Excellent, excellent,” said Sanzang.

“If the prince doesn’t ride out of the city, that will be that,” said Wukong, “and if he does leave the city as your dream predicted I’ll definitely bring him here to see you.”

“If he does come to see me, what shall I say to him?” asked Sanzang. “I’ll give you a tip-off just before he comes,” said Wukong. “I want you to open the lid of that box a little while I turn myself into a tiny monk two inches high, then take me into your hands with the scepter. When the prince comes into the monastery he’s bound to worship the Buddhas. No matter how much he prostrates himself you are to pay no attention to him whatsoever. At the sight of you sitting there without moving he’ll certainly have you arrested. Let him arrest you. Let him have you beaten, tied up or even killed if he likes.”

“Goodness!” exclaimed Sanzang. “With all his military authority he might really have me killed, and that would be terrible.”

“No problem,” said Wukong. “I’ll be there. If things get sticky I’ll look after you. If he questions you, tell him that you are the imperially commissioned monk sent from the East to go to the Western Heaven to worship the Buddha, fetch the scriptures and offer some treasures. When he asks you what treasures, tell him about the golden cassock and say, ‘This is my third-grade treasure. I also have very fine treasures of the first and second grade.’ When he asks you about them tell him that in this box you have a treasure that knows everything that has happened or will happen for five hundred years in the past, five hundred years in the present era, and another five hundred years after that—fifteen hundred years in all. Then let me out of the box and I’ll tell the prince everything that you were told in your dream. If he believes me I’ll go to capture the fiend. That will avenge his father and do our reputation a lot of good. But if he still doesn’t believe you, show him the white jade scepter. My only worry is that he may be too young to remember it.”

Sanzang was delighted with Pilgrim Sun’s suggestions. “Disciple,” he said, “this is a superb plan. When I talk about my three treasures I can call one of them the golden cassock and another the white jade scepter. But what shall I call the one you turn yourself into?”

“Call it the King-maker,” said Wukong. Sanzang committed his instructions to memory. There was no way that the master and his disciples were going to sleep that night as they waited for the dawn. They only wished that by giving a nod they could make the sun rise, and blow away all the stars in the sky with a puff of breath.

Before long the eastern sky did grow lighter. Wukong gave his parting instructions to Bajie and Friar Sand: “You mustn’t disturb the monks or go rushing wildly about the place. As soon as we’ve succeeded in our mission we’ll continue on the journey with you.” No sooner had he taken his leave of them than he leapt up into mid-air with a whistling somersault. As he gazed due west with his fiery eyes he did indeed see the city. You may wish to ask how this was possible. We were told before that the city was only some fifteen miles away, so he would have been able to see it from that great height.

Pilgrim Sun went for a close look and saw thick clouds of demoniacal fog hanging over it, as well as an abundance of evil winds and vapors of injustice. Up in the air Wukong sighed and said,

“Auspicious light would shine all around

If a true monarch now sat on the throne.

But black vapors hang over the gates of the palace

Now that a fiend has made it his own.”

As he was sighing Wukong heard the clear report of a cannon. The eastern gate of the city opened, and out poured a column of people and horses. It was indeed an impressive hunting party:

Leaving the Forbidden City at dawn,

They fan out into the bush,

Their coloured flags bright in the sun,

White horses galloping into the wind.

Alligator-skin drums pound

As fencing spears clash together.

Ferocious the corps of falconers,

Martial the masters of the bounds.

Cannons shake the heavens,

While sticky-poles gleam red in the sun.

Each man carries a crossbow;

Everyone has a bow at his waist.

The nets are spread at the foot of the hills,

And snares are set along the paths.

With a noise more frightening than thunder

A thousand horsemen surround a bear.

The cunning hare cannot save itself,

And the crafty river-deer is at its wit’s end.

The foxes are fated to meet their doom,

And death now faces the roebuck.

The mountain pheasant cannot fly away,

Nor can its cousin on the plain escape.

They have taken over the mountains to catch wild beasts,

And are destroying the forests to shoot the flying birds.

After they all left the city they ambled through the eastern outskirts and before long they were on high ground some six miles away where there was a military encampment. There was a very short general wearing a helmet, a breast plate, a sash round his waist, and eighteen metal plates. He held a blue-edged sword and sat astride a yellow charger. At his waist hung a ready-strung bow. Indeed:

He was the image of a monarch,

With an emperor’s noble visage.

His manners were not those of a petty man;

He moved like a true dragon.

As Pilgrim Sun looked down from mid-air he was delighted. “It goes without saying that he must be the crown prince. I think I’ll play a trick on him.” The splendid Great Sage brought his cloud down to land and charged straight through the soldiers till he was before the crown prince’s horse. Then he shook himself and turned himself into a white hare that started to run around frantically in front of the prince’s horse, to the delight of the prince when he spotted it. Fastening an arrow to his bow, he drew it and hit the hare with his first shot.

Now the Great Sage had deliberately made the prince hit him, and with the quickness of his hand and eye he caught the arrowhead, dropped its feathers on the ground beside him, and started to run. Seeing his arrow hit the white rabbit, the crown prince gave his horse its head and galloped ahead of the field in pursuit. He did not notice that when his horse galloped fast Wukong went like the wind, and that when the horse slowed down Wukong slowed down too, keeping only a little distance ahead. Watch as he leads the prince for mile after mile until he has lured him to the entrance of the Precious Wood Monastery. Here Wukong turned back into himself. The hare was no longer to be seen. There was only an arrow stuck into the lintel. Wukong rushed inside and told the Tang Priest, “He’s here, Master, he’s here.” Then with another transformation he turned himself into a tiny monk only two inches tall and squeezed into the red box.

Having chased the rabbit as far as the monastery entrance the prince was most surprised when it disappeared and all that could be seen was an arrow fletched with vulture feathers stuck in the lintel.

“That’s odd,” he exclaimed, “very odd indeed. I’m quite sure that I hit the white rabbit. It can’t have disappeared, leaving only my arrow here. I suppose that over the years the rabbit must have become a spirit.” Pulling his arrow out he saw the words ROYALLY FOUNDED PRECIOUS WOOD MONASTERY written large over the entrance.

“I remember,” he said to himself. “Some years ago when my father was in the palace’s throne hall he sent officials with gifts of money and silk for the monks here to build a Buddha hall with Buddha statues. I didn’t expect to come here today; but, as they say,

To hear the monk’s words when you pass a shrine

Is half a day’s rest from the vanity of life.”

The crown prince dismounted and was just on the point of going inside when his personal guards and the three thousand horsemen galloped up in a great crowd, all pushing and shoving to get into the monastery. Deeply alarmed, the monks all came out to kowtow in greeting and lead the prince into the monastery’s main hall, where he worshipped the statues of Buddhas. When he raised his head to look around before taking a stroll along the cloisters to see the sights he noticed a monk sitting right in the middle of the hall. “What effrontery!” he exclaimed. “I, the crown prince, have come to visit this monastery in person today, and although the monks did not have to travel to meet me as they were not notified by royal decree, this monk should at least have got up when I arrived with all my army. How dare he carry on sitting there?” He then ordered that the monk be arrested.

At the word “arrest” the officers standing to either side of the prince all seized Sanzang at once and got ropes ready to tie him up with. Wukong was now silently praying in his box: “Heavenly Kings who protect the dharma, Six Dings and Six Jias, I have a plan to subdue a demon, but this prince doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he’s going to have my master tied up. You must protect him at once. If you allow him to be tied up you’ll all be in trouble.” None of them dared disobey the Great Sage’s secret instructions, and they did indeed protect Sanzang. The officers could not even touch Sanzang’s shaven pate; it was as if he were surrounded by a wall, and they could get nowhere near him.

“Where are you from, and how dare you insult me with this self-protection magic?” asked the crown prince. Sanzang went up to him, greeted him respectfully, and said, “I have no self-protection magic. I am the Tang Priest from the East going to worship the Buddha, fetch scriptures and offer treasures in the Thunder Monastery.”

“Your Eastern Lands may be in the central plains,” replied the prince, “but they are extraordinarily poor. What treasures could you possibly have? Tell me.”

“The cassock I am wearing,” said Sanzang, “is the third-grade treasure. I also have treasures of the first and second grade that are much better things.”

“But that cassock only half covers you,” objected the prince. “It can’t possibly be worth enough to deserve being called a treasure.”

“The cassock may not cover both shoulders,” replied Sanzang, “but there is a poem about it that goes:

Of course a monk’s habit leaves one shoulder bare,

But it covers a true Buddha free from worldly dust.

This was the True Achievement of thousands of needles;

Nine Pearls and Eight Treasures formed its spirit.

Fairies and holy women sewed it reverently

As a gift to a dhyana monk to purify his body.

Failure to greet Your Highness may be overlooked,

But what use is a man who avenges not his father?”

Hearing this put the crown prince into a fury. “You’re talking nonsense, you impudent monk,” he shouted. “You can use your gift of the gab to overpraise your tatty little garment if you like. But you’ll have to tell me what wrongs to my father I’ve failed to avenge.”

Sanzang took a step forward, joined his hands in front of his chest, and said, “Your Royal Highness, how many great kindnesses does a man receive on earth?”

“Four,” the prince replied. “What are they?” Sanzang asked. “There is the kindness that heaven and earth show by covering and supporting him,” said the prince. “There is the kindness of the sun and moon in giving him light. There is the kindness of his monarch in giving him land and water. And there is the kindness of his parents who rear him.”

“Your Highness is mistaken,” said Sanzang with a smile. “People are only covered and supported by heaven and earth, lit by sun and moon, and provided with land and water by their monarchs. They are not brought up by fathers and mothers.”

“Monk,” said the prince in anger, “you shaven-headed food-scrounging tramp, you rebel, where would people come from if they did not have parents to rear them?”

“That is something, Your Highness,” said Sanzang, “that I do not know. But I have in this box here a treasure called the King-maker who knows everything that has happened or will happen for five hundred years long ago, five hundred years in the present era, and five hundred years in the future after that, making fifteen hundred years in all. He will be able to tell us all about not knowing the kindness of being reared by parents. He has made me wait here for a very long time.”

“Bring him out and let me see him,” said the crown prince. As Sanzang opened the lid of the box Pilgrim Sun jumped out and started rushing around on both sides of it. “A tiny speck of a man like that couldn’t possibly know anything,” said the prince.

As soon as Wukong heard this objection to his size he used his magic powers to stretch himself till he was three feet four or five inches tall, to the amazement of the soldiers, who said, “If he went on growing at that rate it would only be a day or two before he smashed through the sky.”

Once Pilgrim Sun was back to his original size he stopped growing. Only then did the prince address him: “King-maker, this old monk says that you know all the good and evil things of the past and the future. Do you use tortoise-shell or milfoil for your divinations? Or do you do it by interpreting sentences from books?”

“I don’t use anything,” said Wukong. “All I need is my three inches of tongue to know everything about everything.”

“You’re talking nonsense again,” said the prince. “Even since the olden days the Book of Changes has been the best book for predicting the good and bad things that will happen in the world. It tells you what to avoid. That’s why predictions can be made with tortoise-shell or yarrow. Why should I believe a word you say? You’ll be making unfounded predictions of blessings and disasters to stir up trouble.”

“Be patient, Your Highness,” said Wukong, “until you’ve heard what I have to say. You are the eldest son of the monarch of Wuji. Five years ago there was a disastrous drought in your country that caused your people terrible suffering. The king, your father, and his ministers prayed devoutly for rain, but not a drop fell until a Taoist wizard came from the Zhongnan Mountains who could summon up winds and rain and turn stone into gold. Because the monarch was too fond of the wizard he took the wizard as his sworn brother. Is this all true so far?”

“Yes, yes,” said the crown prince, “go on.”

“When the wizard disappeared three years later who was then on the throne?”

“You’re quite right that there was a wizard,” said the prince, “and that His Majesty my father took him as his sworn brother. They slept in the same room and ate from the same table. Three years ago they were enjoying the beauty of the palace gardens when he used a gust of magic wind to seize my father’s gold-bordered white jade scepter and carry it back with him to the Zhongnan Mountains. My father still misses him. Without him my father has no interest in any relaxation, and the palace gardens have been completely shut for the last three years.”

Wukong smiled, and kept on smiling without answering when the prince asked more questions. “Damn you!” said the furious prince, “What do you mean by just grinning at me?”

“I have a great deal more to say,” Pilgrim Sun finally replied, “but this is hardly the place to talk with so many people around.” Realizing that there must be something behind this remark the prince dismissed his soldiers with a wave of his sleeve. The officers in attendance passed the order on at once, sending the three thousand soldiers and their horses to pitch camp outside the monastery gates. Now that there was nobody else in the hall of the monastery the prince took the best seat. The venerable elder stood beside the prince with Wukong standing next to him. All the monks of the monastery withdrew.

Wukong then stopped smiling as he stepped forward and said. “Your Highness, it was in fact your very own parent that was carried away by the wind, and it is the rain-making wizard who now sits on the throne.”

“Nonsense,” said the prince, “nonsense. Ever since the wizard went away my father has kept the weather well regulated, the country strong and the people contented. But you say that he isn’t my father. As I’m of such tender years I’ll spare you; but if His Majesty my father heard you uttering such treason he’d have you arrested and hacked into ten thousand pieces.” He then shouted at Wukong to go away.

“What did I say?” Wukong asked the Tang Priest. “I said he won’t believe me. Oh, well. The only thing I can do now is to give him that treasure in the hope of obtaining a passport so that we can carry on towards the Western Heaven.” Sanzang handed the red box to Wukong, who took it, shook himself, made it disappear—it was, after all, one of his own hairs transformed—and put it back on his body. He then presented the white jade scepter with both hands to the prince.

“A splendid monk you are, I must say,” exclaimed the crown prince on seeing it. “Five years ago you came here as a Quanzhen wizard to trick my family out of its treasure, and now you’ve come back as a Buddhist monk to present it to me.”

“Arrest him,” the prince shouted, and as the order was passed on Sanzang pointed to Wukong in his terror and panic and said, “You wretched Protector of the Horses! All you can do is cause gratuitous trouble in which you get me involved.” Wukong rushed forward to stop him.

“Shut up,” he said, “or you’ll give the game away. I’m not called King-maker. I have a real name.”

“Come here,” shouted the angry crown prince. “I want your real name so that I can hand you over to the legal authorities for sentence.”

“I am this elder’s senior disciple,” said Wukong. “My name is Sun Xingzhe. As I’m going with my master on his way to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven, we took shelter here last night. My master was reading sutras late last night, and he had a dream in the third watch. In this dream His Majesty your father told my master that the wizard had murdered him by pushing him into the eight-sided well with glazed tiles in the palace gardens. The wizard then turned himself into such a good likeness of your father that none of the officials at court could tell the difference. You were too young to know any better and banned from the harem. The garden was closed. This was because he was afraid that the truth would get out. His Majesty your father came last night specially to ask me to put the fiend down. I was worried in case the present king wasn’t really an evil spirit, but when I took a look from up in the air I saw that he definitely is. I was just going to grab him when you rode out of the city to go hunting. The white hare you hit with your arrow was me. I led you to this monastery to meet my master. Every word I have told you is the truth. You can recognize that white jade scepter; so why don’t you bow in gratitude to the father who reared you and avenge him?”

At these words the crown prince was deeply distressed, and he said to himself in his grief, “Perhaps I shouldn’t believe what he says, but it does seem to be rather convincing. But if I do believe him, how ever can I face my father in the palace?” He was indeed

Caught upon the horns of a dilemma,

Wondering what on earth he ought to do.

Seeing that he was unable to make up his mind, Wukong went up to him and said, “No need for all these doubts, Your Highness. Why don’t you ride back to the capital and ask Her Majesty the queen how the love between her and your father is compared with three years ago. That’s the only question that will prove that I’m telling the truth.”

That changed the prince’s mind for him. “That’s it,” he said, “I’ll ask my mother.” He sprang to his feet, put the scepter in his sleeve and was just about to go when Wukong tugged at his clothes and said, “If all your men and horses go back it’ll give the game away and make it much harder for me to succeed. You must ride back alone and not draw attention to yourself or make a fuss. Don’t go in through the main gate; use one of the back gates instead. And when you enter the women’s quarters in the palace to see your mother, don’t shout or make a lot of noise. You must keep your voice down and talk very quietly. That fiend probably has tremendous magical powers, and once the cat is out of the bag your mum’s life won’t be worth tuppence.”

The crown prince accepted these instructions with great respect, then went outside the monastery gates to give these orders to his officers: “Stay encamped here and do not move. I have some business to attend to. Wait till I come back and then we shall all return to the capital together.” Watch him:

Giving his orders to the army to encamp,

He rides back to the city as if on wings.

If you don’t know what was said when he met the queen, listen to the explanation in the next installment.