Chapter 81

The Mind-Ape Recognizes a Monster in the Monastery

The Three Search for Their Master in Black Pine Forest

The story tells how Sanzang and his disciples came to the Meditation Monastery where they met the lamas and were given a vegetarian meal. When the four of them had eaten the girl was also fed. By now night was gradually falling and the lamp was lit in the abbot's lodgings. The lamas, who wanted to ask the Tang Priest about why he was going to fetch the scriptures and were also eager for a look at the girl, stood packed together in rows under the lamp. “Abbot,” said Sanzang to the lama he had first met, “when we leave your monastery tomorrow what will the road West be like?” Before answering, the lama fell to his knees. Sanzang quickly helped him up and said, “Stand up, please. Why do you greet me in this way when I ask about the road?”

“When you travel West tomorrow, reverend sir, you will find that the road is level,” the lama replied. “There is no need to worry. There is just one thing at present that is rather awkward. I wanted to tell you about it as soon as you came in, but I was afraid that it would offend your distinguished self. I only venture to tell you now that the meal is over that you will be most welcome to spend the night in the young lamas' room after your long, hard journey from the East. But it would not be right for the lady Bodhisattva to do so. I don't know where I should invite her to sleep.”

“Your suspicions are not called for, abbot,” Sanzang replied, “and you should not suppose that my disciples and I have wicked ideas. When we were coming through Black Pine Forest this morning we found this girl tied to a tree. My disciple Sun Wukong refused to save her, but out of my enlightened heart I rescued her and have brought her here for you to put up, abbot.”

“As you have been so generous, reverend Father,” the abbot replied, “we can set out a straw mattress behind the devarajas in the Devaraja Hall for her to sleep on.”

“That's splendid,” Sanzang said, “splendid.” After this the young lamas took the girl to sleep in the back of the hall while in the abbot's lodgings Sanzang urged the officials of the monastery to put themselves at their ease, whereupon they all dispersed.

“We have had a hard day,” Sanzang said to Brother Monkey. “We must go to bed early and be up early in the morning.” They all slept in the same room, guarding the master and not daring to leave him. Later that night

The moon rose high and all was peaceful;

The Street of Heaven was quiet and nobody moved.

Bright was the Silver River; the stars shone clearly;

The drum in the tower hastened the changing watch.

We will say nothing more of the night. When Monkey rose at first light he told Pig and Friar Sand to get the luggage and the horse ready then urged the master to start out. But Sanzang wanted to sleep longer and would not wake up, so Monkey went up to him to call, “Master.”

The master raised his head but still could make no reply. “What will you say, Master?” Monkey asked.

“Why is my head spinning,” Sanzang replied, “why are my eyes swollen, and why an I aching all over from my skin to my bones?”

When Pig heard this he stretched out his hand to feel the master's body. It was feverish. “Now I understand,” said the idiot with a grin. “He had several bowls too many of last night's free rice and went to sleep head-down. It's indigestion.”

“Nonsense,” shouted Monkey, “Let me ask the master what's really the matter.”

“When I got up in the middle of the night to relieve myself,” Sanzang replied, “I did not put my hat on. I think I must have caught a chill in the wind.”

“I'm sure you're right,” said Monkey, “Can you travel now?”

“I cannot even sit up,” Sanzang replied, “let alone mount the horse. The journey will have to wait.”

“What a thing to say, Master,” said Monkey, “As the saying goes, 'A teacher for a day is one's father for life.' As your disciples we are like your sons. There's another saying that

A son does not have to shit silver or gold;

As long as be can do what's needed he'll be fine.

If you're not feeling well you shouldn't be worrying about the journey being delayed. There'll be no problem about waiting for a few days.” The three brother-disciples all looked after their master. The morning was followed by midday and dusk, and after a good night dawn returned. Time fled, and three days had soon passed.

The morning after that Sanzang tried to sit up, calling, “Wukong, as I have been very ill these last couple of days I have not asked you before: have people been giving food to the lady Bodhisattva we rescued?”

“What are you bothering about her for?” laughed Monkey, “What you should be concerned with is your own illness.”

“Yes, yes,” said Sanzang. “Help me up and fetch me paper, brush and ink. Borrow an inkstone here in the monastery.”

“What do you want them for?” Monkey asked.

“I want to write a letter,” Sanzang replied. “I shall seal it up with our passport and ask you to deliver it for me to His Majesty Emperor Taizong in Chang'an.”

“Easy,” said Monkey, “I may not be much good at anything else, but when it comes to delivering letters I'm the champion of the whole world. So wrap the letter up and give it to me. I'll take it to Chang'an in a single somersault, give it to the Tang Emperor, and come back with another somersault before your brush and inkstone have dried up. But why do you want to write a letter? Tell me what you want to say in the letter-you can write it down later.”

“This is what I will write,” said Sanzang, weeping:

“Your subject beats his head three times upon the ground,

With a triple shout of 'Long live Your Majesty' as I bow to my lord.

The civil and military officials ate all present,

And four hundred courtiers all listen to what is said.

Years ago I left the East on your command,

Hoping to see the Buddha on the Vulture Peak.

But on my journey I have met with obstructions;

And been delayed by unexpected disaster along the way.

My illness is grave; I cannot move one step;

The gate to Buddha is as distant as the gate to heaven.

I will not live to bring back the scriptures;

I submit with respect that a new envoy should be sent.”

When Monkey heard this he could not help bursting out into uproarious laughter. “You're hopeless, Master,” he said, “thinking that sort of thing after just a touch of illness. If you were seriously ill you'd only have to ask me to find out whether you were going to live or die. I have my own special way of dealing with it. I'd ask, 'Which king of the Underworld dared think of this? Which of the judges issued the warrant? Which demon messenger is coming to fetch him?' If they make me angry I'll lose my temper the way I did when I made havoc in Heaven, smash my way into the Underworld with my cudgel, capture the ten kings and rip the sinews out of every one of them. I'll show them no mercy.”

“Stop that boasting, disciple,” Sanzang replied. “I am very ill.”

“Brother,” said Pig, going up to him, “it's very awkward to have the master saying he's in a bad way and you insisting he isn't. Let's settle things as quickly as we can, sell the horse, pawn the luggage, buy a coffin to bury the master in and split up.”

“You're talking out of turn again, you idiot,” Monkey replied. “What you don't realize is that the master used to be our Tathagata Buddha's second disciple. His original name was the Venerable Golden Cicada. This is great hardship he has to endure because he once slighted the Buddha's Dharma.”