“The fox mourns for the death of the hare,” sighed Sanzang. “All things are sorry for their own kind. Go and ask them, Wukong, why they are being punished like that.”
Doing as he had been told, Monkey asked, “What monastery are you from, monks? Why are you in cangues and chains?”
“My lord,” said the monks, all falling to their knees, “we are from the Golden Light Monastery and we have been wronged.”
“Where is the Golden Light Monastery?” Monkey asked.
“Just round the corner,” they replied.
Monkey led them to the Tang Priest and asked them, “How have you been wronged? Tell me.”
“We don't know where you're from, but you look a little familiar to us, my lords,” the monks replied. “We don't dare talk here. Please come to our poor monastery where we can tell you our woes.”
“Very well,” said the venerable elder, “we shall go to their monastery and ask them all the details.” They went with them to the monastery gate, over which was a board on which was written in letters of gold
NATION-PROTECTING GOLDEN LIGHT MONASTERY
FOUNDED BY ROYAL COMMAND
When master and disciples went inside to look around this is what they saw:
Cold were the lamps in the ancient hall;
Wind blew the leaves along deserted cloisters.
A thousand-foot pagoda touched the clouds;
Pine trees grew to nourish the nature.
Fallen blooms carpeted the unvisited grounds;
Spiders span cobwebs all over the eaves.
The drum-stand was empty,
The bell hung in vain,
And the frescoes could barely be seen through the dust.
Still was the pulpit where no priest could be seen,
Silent the dhyana hall except for the birds.
The desolation made one long to sigh;
Its dreariness caused great pain.
Although an incense burner stood before the Buddha
All was cold ash, withered flowers and desolation.
All this made Sanzang miserable, and he could not help his tears flowing. The monks in their cangues and chains pushed open the doors of the main Buddha-hall and invited him to step inside and worship the Buddha. Sanzang entered, offered the incense of his heart and said the recitation three times. Then he turned round again to see six or seven young monks locked to the pillars outside the abbot's lodgings. It was more than he could bear.
When he entered the abbot's lodgings and all the monks came to kowtow to him they asked, “You reverend gentlemen look rather different. Are you from Great Tang in the East?”
“You must have second sight,” Monkey said with a laugh. “We are indeed, but how could you tell?”
“We don't have second sight, my lords,” the monks replied. “It's just that because we're so distressed at the injustice we've suffered and because there's nowhere else we can turn, we have been calling on heaven and earth for days on end. Some heavenly deity must have been moved by us because last night we all had the same dream. We were told that a holy monk was coming from Great Tang in the East who would save our lives and right our wrongs. We knew who you were today because you looked rather unusual.”
This pleased Sanzang greatly. “What country is this, and what injustice have you suffered?” he asked.
“My lord,” said the monks on their knees, “this country is called Jisai, and it's one of the biggest in the West. In the old days the foreign states all around used to send tribute: Yuetuo in the South, Gaochang to the North, Western Liang in the East, and Benbo to the West. Every year they used to offer fine jade, bright pearls, beautiful women and magnificent horses. We never had to resort to arms or send expeditions against them: they naturally acknowledged us as their suzerain.”
“If they did that your king must understand the Way and your civil and military officials be wise and good,” Sanzang said.
“My lord,” the monks replied to Sanzang's question, “our country's civil officials are not wise, our generals are not good, and our monarch does not understand the Way. Auspicious clouds used to gather round the pagoda of our monastery and mists of good omen rose high above it. The glow above it at night could once be seen from thousands of miles away; the coloured vapors were admired by the countries all around. That was why this was a divinely-appointed capital to which all the foreigners sent tribute. But three years ago at midnight on the first day of the first month of autumn it rained blood. The next morning everyone was terrified and miserable. All the ministers submitted a memorial to the throne: they didn't understand why heaven was so angry with us. Taoists were asked to perform purifications and Buddhist monks to recite sutras as an offering to heaven and earth. Goodness only knows why, but our golden pagoda has been contaminated, and for the last two years no foreign countries have sent tribute. Our king wanted to send armies to punish them, but the officials said that the reason why foreign countries weren't sending tribute was that the auspicious clouds and mists of good omen had disappeared, and this was because we monks had stolen the treasure from the pagoda in our monastery. The stupid king did not investigate, and those corrupt officials had all us monks arrested. We have been beaten and tortured in every possible way. There used to be three generations of us monks in this monastery, but the two older generations both died off because they couldn't take the beating and torture. Now we've been arrested and made to wear these cangues and chains. Your Honour, we could never be so wicked as to steal the treasure from the pagoda. We implore you to take pity on your fellows and in your great mercy and compassion make wide use of your dharma powers and save our lives.”
At this Sanzang nodded and said with a sigh, “This is an obscure business that will be hard to sort out. The court is ruling badly, and you are suffering a calamity. If it was the rain of blood that contaminated your pagoda why did you not report the fact to your king at the time? Instead you let yourselves in for this calamity.”
“We are only common mortals, your lordship, and had no way-of telling what heaven had in mind. Besides, our elders didn't understand. What could we be expected to do about it?”
“What's the time, Wukong?” Sanzang asked.
“About four in the afternoon,” Monkey replied.
“I would like to see the king to present our passport,” Sanzang said, “but I cannot solve these monks' problem and report on it to His Majesty. When I left Chang'an I made a vow in the Famen Monastery that on my journey West I would burn incense at every temple I passed, worship the Buddha in every monastery I came across, and sweep every pagoda I saw. Today I have met these monks who have been wronged on account of their pagoda. Will you get me a new broom while I take a bath? I shall then go up to sweep it and find out what has contaminated it and why it does not gleam any longer. Once I have found out the truth it will be much easier to report on it in person to the king and rescue them from their misery.”
As soon as the monks in cangues and chains heard this they hurried to the kitchen to fetch a big vegetable chopper that they handed to Pig.
“Take this chopper, your lordship,” they said, “and cut through the iron locks holding the young monks to the pillars so that they can prepare you some food and tea and wait on your master while he eats and bathes. Meanwhile we shall go out on the streets again to beg for a new broom for your master to sweep the pagoda with.”
“There's no problem about opening locks,” laughed Pig. “We don't need knives or axes. Just ask the hairy-faced gentleman: he's been opening locks for years.” Monkey then stepped forward and used lock-opening magic: one touch and the locks all fell open. The young monks all ran into the kitchen to clean up the cooking pots and stove and prepare the meal. When Sanzang and his disciples had eaten and it was gradually getting dark the monks in cangues and chains came in with two brooms to Sanzang's great delight.