The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 37 – Part 7

Guo Jing had never seen Genghis Khan look at him with such ferocity. Fear seized him in truth, and his body trembled involuntarily. He said, “I only beg the Great Khan to spare the lives of the common people.”

Genghis Khan said in a deep, low voice, “You do not regret this?”

Guo Jing recalled how Huang Rong had told him to refuse the marriage. Now that he had let slip this golden chance, he would lose the Great Khan’s favour for the rest of his days. So be it. But his union with Huang Rong too would dissolve like water flowing away. Yet seeing the piteous spectacle of several hundred thousand people crying out in anguish, how could he stand by and watch them die? He held his head high and said, “I do not regret it.”

Genghis Khan heard the tremor in his voice and knew he was afraid. Yet he still steeled himself to press his demand, and Genghis Khan could not help admiring his stubbornness. He drew his long dao and cried, “Recall the troops!”

The guards sounded the horns. Tens of thousands of Mongol horsemen, men and horses spattered with blood, rode out from the throng and formed up in ordered ranks.

Since Genghis Khan had become Great Khan, not a single person had dared defy his will. This time Guo Jing had bluntly forced him to swallow his order to massacre the city, and he was furious. He let out a great shout, flung his dao heavily to the ground, and rode back to the city. The generals all glared at Guo Jing, thinking that in the Great Khan’s fury someone, who knew who, was bound to suffer for it. After taking Samarkand they could have looted and killed for days. Now all the joy of sacking the city was ruined.

Guo Jing knew the generals were displeased but paid them no heed. He rode the Little Red Horse slowly towards a quiet place. The great battle had just ended. Inside and outside the city, thousands upon thousands of houses were still burning. The ground was littered with corpses, and snow covered the plains, all stained crimson with blood. He thought, The horror of war has come to this. I led an army here to avenge my father, and killed so many people. The Great Khan, to conquer the world, has killed far more. But what sin have the tens of thousands of soldiers and common people committed, that they should end with their brains spilled on the ground and their bones left to rot in the wilderness? The more he thought, the more uneasy he grew, and he asked himself, I stormed the city to avenge my father, yet caused the deaths of so many. Was it right or wrong?

Alone on his horse, he rode back and forth across the wasteland, thinking bitterly, until darkness fell. Only then did he return to the camp inside the city. At the camp gate he found two of the Great Khan’s guards waiting outside. They stepped forward and saluted, saying, “The Great Khan summons the Prince Consort. We have been waiting a long time. Please come at once.”

Guo Jing thought, I defied the Great Khan’s will today. He may well have me beheaded. Things being as they are, I can only wait and see, and act as I must. He beckoned one of his own guards over and whispered a few instructions, telling him to report to Lu Youjiao at once. Then he entered the palace alone. His heart was full of dread, but his resolve was set. No matter how the Great Khan threatens or rages, I will never withdraw my plea to spare the people of the city. He is the Great Khan. He cannot go back on his word.

He fully expected to find Genghis Khan in a towering rage. Instead, as he approached the hall, he heard the Great Khan’s hearty laughter ringing out from within. Guo Jing could not help but feel a faint surprise. He quickened his step and entered, to find a man seated beside Genghis Khan and a young girl sitting at his feet, leaning against his knee. The seated man, a Daoist with a long beard as black as lacquer, was Qiu Chuji, Changchunzi.¹ The girl at his feet was Princess Huazheng.

Guo Jing was overjoyed and hurried forward to greet them. Genghis Khan snatched a long halberd from an attendant, reversed it, and struck fiercely at Guo Jing’s head with the shaft. Guo Jing started and dodged sideways. The blow caught his left shoulder, and with a crack the halberd shaft snapped in two. Genghis Khan roared with laughter and cried, “Little fellow, we’ll call it quits. Had you not performed a great service today, and were it not for Daoist Elder² Qiu and my daughter’s sake, I would take your head this very day.”

Huazheng jumped to her feet and cried, “Father, whenever I’m not here you bully my Guo Jing gege.”

Genghis Khan flung the broken halberd to the ground and laughed, “Who says so?”

Huazheng said, “I saw it with my own eyes, and you deny it? That is why I was worried and asked Daoist Elder Qiu to come with me to have a look.”

Genghis Khan held his daughter’s hand in one hand and Guo Jing’s in the other, and said, “Everyone sit down and be quiet. Let us hear Daoist Elder Qiu recite his poems.”

After the contest at Misty Rain Pavilion,³ Qiu Chuji had seen that Zhou Botong was safe and unharmed and learned that the true killer of Tan Chuduan was Ouyang Feng. He, Ma Yu and the others had offered Huang Yaoshi a solemn apology. When the Six Zis of Quanzhen later met Ke Zhen’e and learned the whole story, they sighed long and deeply. Qiu Chuji reflected on his error in taking a disciple without sufficient care. He had taught Yang Kang martial arts but had never taken the boy out of the prince’s mansion, and a young man raised to wealth and rank had lost his footing and come to this end at last. He blamed himself bitterly for it.

Then letters had come from Genghis Khan and Guo Jing. He reflected that the Mongols were now certain to swallow the Middle Kingdom, and that an invitation from Genghis Khan was a rare chance to offer him counsel. If he could awaken a single spark of goodness in the man, countless millions under heaven might be spared the slaughter, and that would be merit beyond measure. He was also concerned for Guo Jing. So he set out with a dozen or so disciples, braving the cold for the west.

Qiu Chuji saw that Guo Jing’s face had been weathered dark by wind and snow, yet his body had grown even more robust. He was greatly pleased. Before Guo Jing’s arrival, he had been telling Genghis Khan about the sights he had seen on the road, and how the strange customs and landscapes had moved him to compose several poems. Now he stroked his beard and recited:

“Ten years of war, the myriad peoples’ grief, Of tens of millions, barely one or two survive. Last year, blessed by an edict of mercy, This spring I must needs journey through the cold. I do not shrink from three thousand li⁴ north of the mountains, Still mindful of the two hundred prefectures east of the pass. Those who escaped the slaughter, gasping their last, Let the common people find relief from care.”

A civil official versed in the Han tongue, by the name of Yelü Chucai,⁵ translated the poem into Mongolian. Genghis Khan listened, nodded, and said nothing.

Qiu Chuji turned to Guo Jing and said, “Years ago, when your seven shifus were competing in martial arts at the Drunken Immortal Wineshop, your second shifu took from my robe a poem I had not yet finished. On this journey west, I missed my seven old friends and at last completed the poem.” He recited:

“Since ancient times the mid-autumn moon shines brightest, Cool winds arrive, the night grows ever clear. The sky’s vast air submerges the Silver River, In the four seas, fish and dragons leap through crystal water.”

“These four lines your second shifu saw. The four that follow are newly written, and he will never see them.

“Towers of Wu and Yue, songs and music fill the air, Yan and Qin, their troops abundant with wine and feast. I have come to the Khan’s palace by the river, Wishing to end the clash of arms and bring peace.”

Guo Jing thought of his seven shifus, and tears filled his eyes.

Genghis Khan said, “Daoist Elder has travelled far from the east. Surely you have witnessed the might of my Mongol armies. Do you have any poem in praise?”

Qiu Chuji said, “All along the road I have seen the Great Khan’s power in taking cities and seizing lands, and it has moved me. I composed two poems. The first runs:

“Heaven so vast, looking down upon the earth below, Why do you not save the myriad souls from suffering? The myriad souls, day and night, devouring one another, Swallowing their anger, dying without a word. They cry aloud to Heaven, but Heaven does not answer. All things are small and frail, their forms toiled over in vain. How might the great world return to primordial chaos, And spare the Creator from bringing forth living souls?”

Yelü Chucai thought the Khan would surely be displeased, and hesitated to translate. Qiu Chuji took no notice and continued:

“My second poem runs:

Alas, Heaven and Earth, vast and far opened, Giving birth to living creatures, tens of millions. The violent and cruel prey upon each other without pause, Turning and turning in suffering beyond end. August Heaven and bountiful Earth both have their gods. Why, then, do they watch men die and never save them? A humble man’s compassionate heart brings him no fortune, Must he toil in vain, day and night, swallowing bitterness?”

Though these two poems were not polished in craft, a heart of grief for the world and pity for its people leapt from every line. Guo Jing, who had seen the horrors of the city’s massacre that very day, was moved beyond measure.

Genghis Khan said, “Daoist Elder’s poems must be excellent. What do they say? Translate them for me at once.”

Yelü Chucai thought, I once urged the Great Khan to kill fewer innocent people, but he paid no heed. It is fortunate this Daoist Elder has so compassionate a heart and has written such fine poems. I only hope they move the Great Khan. He translated them faithfully.

Genghis Khan listened with displeasure and said to Qiu Chuji, “I have heard that the Central Land holds the secret of eternal life. I hope Daoist Elder will instruct me.”

Qiu Chuji said, “Eternal life does not exist in this world. But the Daoist practice of cultivating qi can indeed ward off illness and lengthen one’s years.”

Genghis Khan asked, “May I ask, what comes first in the way of cultivating qi?”

Qiu Chuji said, “The Way of Heaven shows no favour, but is always with the good.”

Genghis Khan asked, “What is good?”

Qiu Chuji said, “The sage has no constant heart. He takes the hearts of the common people as his own.”

Genghis Khan was silent.

Qiu Chuji continued, “The Central Land has a sacred book called the Dao De Jing,⁶ which we Daoists hold as our treasure. ‘The Way of Heaven shows no favour’ and ‘The sage has no constant heart’ are both words from that classic. The classic also says, ‘Arms are instruments of ill omen, not the instruments of the junzi. He uses them only when he must, and holds calm restraint the highest. To glorify them is to delight in killing men, and he who delights in killing men can never have his way under heaven.’”

All the way west, Qiu Chuji had witnessed the savagery of war and felt its sorrow deeply. Seizing on Genghis Khan’s desire to learn the art of longevity, he expounded at length, pleading on behalf of the people.

Genghis Khan was already advanced in years, his vigour declining. What concerned him was only the secret of eternal life. When he learned that Qiu Chuji had come, he had been overjoyed, expecting that even if he could not achieve an immortal body, he would at least discover the means to lengthen his days. Instead, the Daoist Elder spoke of nothing but urging him to use fewer troops and kill fewer people. They were getting nowhere. In the end Genghis Khan turned to Guo Jing and said, “Go with the Daoist Elder and see that he rests.”

Author’s note:

I. Guo Jing’s appointment as commander-in-chief by Genghis Khan is fiction. Neither Guo Jing nor Huang Rong appear in the official histories. Some commentators have argued that the Mongol rulers discriminated against the Han, dividing all people into four classes, namely Mongols, Semu, Han (northern Chinese) and Southerners (southern Chinese), and would never appoint a Han or Southerner as commander-in-chief. This argument is mistaken. The four-class system was a later development, established after the conquest of all China and the founding of the Yuan dynasty, when restrictions were imposed on Southerners because of frequent revolts. During the reigns of Genghis Khan, Ögedei, and Kubilai as Khans, many Han were appointed as commanders-in-chief. Zhang Rou and Zhang Shijie, among others, served as regional supreme commanders. During the Mongol western campaigns there was a Han commander-in-chief, and not only a Han but one surnamed Guo. Guo Baoyu was trusted and employed by Genghis Khan and once led troops to campaign against Samarkand. His grandson Guo Kan also served as a commander-in-chief, leading Mongol armies under Hulegu (1217—1265), Genghis Khan’s grandson, on the western expedition against Tianfang (Saudi Arabia) and Fulang (the island of Cyprus, whose Muslim Sultan was unable to resist and surrendered). Guo Kan rose from commander of a hundred and of a thousand to commander of ten thousand and noyan, with military rank equivalent to Guo Jing’s in this novel. During the western campaigns he distinguished himself in the conquest of Iran, Iraq, and other lands, accepting the surrender of the Caliph, Sultans, and many others. After Kubilai established himself in China, he sent a great army to invade Japan. The supreme commander was the Han Chinese Fan Wenhu. Twice his fleet was destroyed by hurricanes, yet he remained in the Khan’s favour.

II. The Khwarezmian Empire was a great Muslim state, its territory spanning what is now the southern Soviet Union, Afghanistan, and Iran. Samarkand lies within modern Uzbekistan. Blood-sweating horses are said to exist still. In 2002, Uzbekistan presented China with one such horse as a gesture of friendship. According to the History of Yuan, when Genghis Khan attacked the old Khwarezmian capital of Gurganj, he ordered naphtha poured upon buildings and set alight, and the city fell because of this.

III. According to historical records, Qiu Chuji corresponded with Genghis Khan three times before setting out with eighteen disciples via the Kunlun Mountains to meet him at the Snow Mountains. This novel omits the three exchanges. Qiu Chuji’s disciple Li Zhichang wrote a book called The Westward Journey of Changchun the Perfected One, recording the journey in detail. This book is still in circulation today. The four poems quoted in this chapter are Qiu Chuji’s original compositions.

Footnotes

1. 长春子 — Chángchūnzǐ. Literally master of eternal spring. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 道长 — dàozhǎng. Literally Daoist elder. A respectful form of address for a Daoist priest. ↩

3. 烟雨楼 — Yānyǔ Lóu. Misty Rain Pavilion, on South Lake in Jiaxing. ↩

4. 里 — lǐ. A traditional unit of distance, about 500 metres or one-third of a mile. ↩

5. 耶律楚材 — Yēlǜ Chǔcái. ↩

6. 道德经 — Dàodéjīng. The Classic of the Way and Its Virtue, attributed to Laozi, the foundational text of Daoism. ↩