“It'll soon be ready,” the woodcutter replied, and before long a table and stools were set out and wiped clean, and several dishes of wild vegetables served:
Tender-scalded day lilies,
White lumps of pickled scallion,
Knotweed and purslane,
Shepherds purse and “goosegut blossom.”
The “swallows stay away” was delicious and tender;
The tiny fists of beansprouts were crisp and green.
Indigo heads boiled soft,
White-stewed “dog footprints,”
“Cat's ears,”
Wild turnips,
All with tender and tasty gray noodles.
“Scissor shafts,”
“Oxpool aid,”
Tipped in the pot with broom purslane.
Broken grain purslane,
And lettuce purslane,
All green, delicious and smooth.
“Birdflower” fried in oil,
Superb water-chestnuts,
Roots of reeds and wild-rice stems,
Four kinds of excellent water plants.
“Wheat-mother,”
Delicate and finely flavored;
“Raggedy patches”
You could never wear.
Under the bitter sesame bed runs a fence.
Sparrows wander around,
Macaques leave their footprints,
Eager to eat it all when fried and piping hot.
Sloping wormwood and green artemisia surround crown daisy chrysanthemums;
The moths fly around the buckwheat.
Bald “goat's ear,”
Wolfberry fruits,
That don't need oil when combined with dark indigo.
A meal of every kind of wild vegetable
As a mark of the woodcutter's reverent thanks.
When master and disciples had eaten their fill they packed up ready to start out again. Not daring to press them to stay, the woodcutter asked his mother to come out and bow to them in thanks again. He then kowtowed, fetched a club of jujube wood, fastened his clothes tight, and came out to see them on their way.
Friar Sand led the horse, Pig carried the shoulder-pole, and Monkey followed close behind them while the master put his hands together on the back of the horse and said, “Brother woodcutter, could you kindly lead us to the main track? We will take out leave of you there.” Together they then climbed high, went down slopes, skirted ravines and negotiated inclines. “Disciples,” said the venerable elder thoughtfully as he rode,
“Since leaving my monarch to come to the West
I have made a long journey across a great distance.
At each river and mountain I have met with disaster,
Barely escaping from monsters and fiends.
My heart has been set on the Three Stores of scriptures,
And my every thought is of Heaven above.
When will my toil and my labor be ended?
When will I go home, my journey completed?”
When the woodcutter heard Sanzang saying this he said, “Don't be so downhearted, sir. It's only some three hundred miles West along this road to India, the land of paradise.”
As soon as Sanzang heard this he dismounted and replied, “Thank you for bringing us so far. Now that we are on the main track, please go home now, brother woodcutter, and give our respects to your venerable mother. We poor monks have no way to reward you for the sumptuous meal you gave us just now except by reciting surras morning and evening to protect you and your mother and enable both of you to live to be a hundred.” The woodcutter took his leave of them and went back by the way he had came. Master and disciples then headed West together.
Indeed:
The ogre subdued and wrongs set to right, he escaped from his peril;
Having been shown this kindness he set out on his way with the greatest of care.
If you don't know how long it was till they reached the Western Heaven, listen to the explanation in the next installment.
Chapter 87
When Heaven Is Offended in Fengxian It Stops the Rain
The Great Sage Urges Goodness and Brings a Downpour
Deep and mysterious is the Great Way;
What news is there of it?
When revealed it will alarm ghosts and divine beings.
It controls the universe,
Divides darkness and light;
In the world of true happiness there is no competition.
Before the Vulture Peak
Pearls and jewels emerge,
Shining with every color.
It illuminates all beings that live between heaven and earth;
Those who understand it live as long as mountains and seas.
The story tells how Sanzang and his three disciples took their leave of the woodcutter on the Hidden Clouds Mountain and hurried along the main road. After they had been going for several days they suddenly saw a walled and moated city not far before them.
“Wukong,” said Sanzang, “is that city ahead of us India, do you think?”
“No, no,” said Monkey shaking his head. “Although the Tathagata lives in a paradise there are no cities there. It's a great mountain, Vulture Peak, on which are the high buildings and halls of Thunder Monastery. Even if we've now reached the land of India this isn't where the Buddha lives. I don't know how far India is from Vulture Peak. Presumably this city is one of the frontier prefectures of India. We'll know when we get there.”
Soon they were outside the city, where Sanzang dismounted to go in through the triple gates. Here they found the people destitute and the streets deserted. When they reached the market there were many black-clad government servants lined up on either side of a number of officials wearing their hats and sashes of office and standing under the eaves of a building. As the four travelers came along the road these men did not give way at all, so Pig in his rough way raised his snout and shouted, “Out of the way! Out of the way!”
When the men looked up with a start and saw what he looked like their bones went soft, their sinews turned numb and they fell over, shouting, “Evil spirits! Evil spirits!”
This gave the officials standing under the eaves such a fright that they were shivering as they bowed and asked, “Where are you from?”
Sanzang, who was worried that his disciples would cause trouble, pushed himself forward and said to the men, “I am a monk sent by His Majesty the Great Tang emperor to worship the Lord Buddha and fetch the scriptures in the Great Thunder Monastery in the land of India. Our journey brings us to this distinguished place, but as we do not know its name and have not yet found a place to stay we hope that you gentlemen will forgive us if we have caused any offence to your customs on entering your city.”
Only then did the officials return his courtesy and say, “This is the prefecture of Fengxian, one of the frontier prefectures of India. Because we have been suffering from drought for years on end the marquis has sent us to put up a notice here calling for masters of the Dharma to pray for rain and save the people.”
“Where's the notice?” asked Monkey when he heard this.
“Here,” the officials said. “The arcade has only just been swept clean: we haven't posted it yet.”
“Bring it here and show me,” said Brother Monkey. The officials then opened the notice out and hung it up under the eaves. Monkey and the others went up to read it, and this was what was written on it:
Shangguan, Marquis of Fengxian Prefecture in Great India, issues this notice to invite enlightened teachers and great masters of the Dharma. This country with its prosperous soldiers and people has been afflicted with drought for years. Military and civil land alike has been devastated; the rivers have dried up and the ditches are empty. There is no water in the wells, and the springs have stopped flowing. While the rich are barely managing to stay alive, the poor cannot survive. A bushel of wheat costs a hundred pieces of silver; a bundle of firewood costs five ounces. Girls of ten are being sold for three pints of rice; boys of five are being given to whoever will take them. Because the city dwellers fear the law they pawn their clothes to buy the necessities for survival; but in the countryside thugs rob and eat people in order to live. I have therefore issued this notice in the hope that wise and worthy men from all around will pray for rain to save the people. The will be richly rewarded for their kindness with a thousand pieces of silver. This is no empty promise. Let those who would take it up come to this notice.