He Falls into the Tiger’s Den and Is Saved by the Planet Venus
On Double-Forked Peak Boqin Entertains the Priest
The Great Tang Emperor issued an edict
Sending Sanzang to learn the Dhyana teachings.
With firmness and patience he seeks the dragon’s lair,
Determined to carry on till he climbs the Vulture Peak.
On his long journey he will visit many a country;
Thousands of cloud-capped mountains lie before him.
Now he leaves the Emperor and sets out for the West
Cleaving to the faith, and aware of the Great Void.
It has been told already how Sanzang was seen off at the checkpoint outside Chang’an by the Tang Emperor and a host of officials on the twelfth day of the ninth month in the thirteenth year of Zhen Guan. For two days his horse’s hoofs were never still, and he soon reached the Fa Men Monastery, where the abbot came out to meet him at the head of five hundred and more monks drawn up in two lines. Taking Sanzang inside, he greeted him, offered him tea, and then gave him a monastic meal. By the time the meal was over night had fallen.
As it approached the Milky Way,
The moon was free from any dust.
The wild goose called to the distant traveler,
While washing-boards could be heard by neighbors.
Roosting birds perch in the withered trees;
The dhyana monks chant Sanskrit music.
On their seats with hassocks of rushes
They sit until the middle of the night.
In the lamplight the monks were discussing the true teachings of the Buddhist faith and the reasons for going to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures. Some said that there would be wide rivers and high mountains to cross, some that there would be many a tiger and leopard along the way, some that the lofty ranges and cliffs would be hard to cross, and some that there would be evil demons and foul fiends difficult to subdue. Sanzang kept his lips sealed; he said nothing, only pointing to his heart and nodding occasionally.
The monks, unable to understand what he meant, put their hands together and asked, “Why do you point to your heart and nod your head, Master?”
“When the heart and mind live,” Sanzang replied, “every kind of evil lives; but when they are extinguished, evil is extinguished too. I made a great vow to the Buddha in the Huasheng Monastery that if I failed to achieve this mission it would not be for lack of trying. I am determined to reach the Western Heaven, where I may see the Buddha and ask for the scriptures, so that the Wheel of the Law may revolve, and our sage Emperor enjoy eternal security.”
On hearing his words the monks all expressed their admiration, saying as if with one voice, “What a loyal and brave Hierarch.” With praises still on their lips they invited the Master to go to bed and wished him a peaceful night’s sleep.
Before long the bamboo clappers were sounding for the setting moon, while the cocks greeted the dawn with their crowing. The monks all got up and prepared tea and breakfast. Sanzang put on his cassock and went to worship the Buddha in the main hall.
“Your disciple Chen Sanzang,” he said, “is going to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures, but my fleshly eye is too dim to see the true image of the living Buddha. I now vow that whenever I come across a temple on my journey I shall burn incense; whenever I see a Buddha’s image I shall worship it; and whenever I pass a stupa I shall sweep it. My only wish is that Buddha in his mercy will soon appear to me in his golden body and give me the true scriptures to take back and propagate in the land of the East.” When he had prayed he went back to the abbot’s room for breakfast. After breakfast his two attendants saddled the horse and set off at a good pace. At the gate of the monastery Sanzang took his leave of the monks, who were so unwilling to be parted from him that they accompanied him for some three miles before turning back with tears in their eyes, while Sanzang carried on Westwards. It was autumn weather:
Leafless the village trees, and fallen the reed flowers;
The red leaves had dropped from maple and willow.
The way was foggy and damp, and few were the friends that he met.
Beautiful the yellow chrysanthemums,
Delicate the mountain spurs;
Sad to see the lotus withered now the water was cold.
White duckweed and red smartweed were turned to snow by the frost.
Solitary ducks coming down from the clouds, dropping from the sky,
Where pale and wispy clouds were scudding.
The swallows had departed,
The migrant geese were here,
And their honking shattered the night.
When the master and his attendants had been travelling for several days they reached the city of Gongzhou, where all the local officials were waiting to greet them and take them into the city. After a night’s rest they set out again the next morning. They ate when they were hungry and drank when they were thirsty, travelling by day and stopping at night. Two or three days later they reached the garrison city of Hezhou, which was on the frontier of the Great Tang Empire. The garrison commander and the local Buddhist monks and priests had all heard that the Master of the Law, the Imperial Younger Brother, was going to the West on His Majesty’s orders to see the Buddha, so they were all very respectful. The Director of Monks took him into the city, provided him with all he needed, and invited him spend the night in the Fuyuan Monastery. All the monks of the monastery came to pay their respects to him, and when he had finished the meal they prepared for him he told his attendants to give the horse a good feed as they would be setting out before dawn. As soon as the cocks started to crow he called for his attendants, thus disturbing the monks, who brought him tea and food. When he had eaten he crossed the frontier.
In his impatience Sanzang had got up too soon. As it was late autumn the cocks had crowed very early, and it was still only about two in the morning. The three of them—four, including the horse—covered about a dozen miles through the frost, finding their way by the light of the moon, until they saw a large mountain in front of them. They had to push the undergrowth aside as they looked for their way, and the going was indescribably rough and difficult. Just when they were wondering whether they were lost, all three of them and the horse stumbled and fell into a pit.
Sanzang was thrown into a panic, and his attendants were trembling with fear, when to add their terror they heard roars coming from further inside and loud shouts of, “Get’em! Get’em!” With a ferocious blast of wind a crowd of fifty or sixty fiends fell upon them and dragged them out. When the shivering and shaking Master of the Law took a stealthy look he saw a thoroughly evil demon king sitting above them. Truly he was
Mighty of stature,
Ferocious of face.
His eyes flashed like lightning,
His thunderous voice shook the four quarters.
Protruding, saw-edged teeth;
Bared fangs like chisels.
His body was clad in brocade,
And his back was covered with its patterns.
A beard of steel concealing his face,
Hooked claws sharp as frost:
The white-browed king of the Southern mountain,
Feared by the Yellow Lord of the Eastern Sea.
The sight of him frightened Sanzang out of his wits and made his two attendants feel their bones turn to jelly and their muscles go numb. When the demon king roared out an order to tie them up the fiends bound them with rope. He was just on the point of devouring them when a great noise was heard outside and the arrival of Mountain Lord Bear and Hermit Ox was announced. Sanzang looked up and saw that one of them was a dark fellow. Can you imagine what he looked like?
A hero of great courage,
Light and strong in body,
Powerful in crossing rivers,
Showing his awesome might as he runs through the woods.
Always blessed with lucky dreams,
He now revealed his unique valour.
He could uproot and snap a green tree,
And when he left cold he could change the weather.
Clearly he shows his miraculous powers, For which he is known as the Mountain Lord.
Behind him Sanzang saw a fat man. Do you know what he looked like?
A hat with two towering horns,
His shoulders squarely set.
He liked to wear dull-coloured clothes,
And his pace was always sluggish.
His male ancestors were called Bull;
His mother was known as Cow,
As he could work for farmers,
His name was Hermit Ox.
When these two came swaggering in, the demon king rushed out to greet them. “General Yin,” said Mountain Lord Bear, “I must congratulate you: you’re always so successful.”
“General Yin,” said Hermit Ox, “my felicitations on being ever-victorious.”
“How have things been with you two gentlemen recently?” asked the demon king.
“Much as usual,” replied Mountain Lord.
“I get by,” answered the Hermit. These preliminaries over, the three of them sat down to laugh and joke together.
Sanzang’s two attendants meanwhile were howling pitifully in their bonds.
“How did those three get here?” asked the dark fellow.
“They delivered themselves to the front door,” the demon king replied.
“Will you be serving them to your friends?” asked the Hermit with a smile.
“I should be honoured to,” answered the demon king.
“We won’t need them all,” remarked the Mountain Lord. “We could eat two and keep the third.” With a “na-a-aw” of obedience the demon king told his servants to cut open the two attendants, scoop their hearts out, and chop their bodies into mince. He presented the heads, hearts, and livers to his two guests, eating the limbs himself and dividing the rest of the flesh and bones among the fiends. All that could be heard was a crunching and a munching that sounded just like tigers devouring lambs, and in a few moments it had all been eaten up. Sanzang was almost dead with fright, yet this was only his first tribulation, coming so soon after leaving Chang’an.
In his despair he noticed that the East was beginning to grow light, and when dawn broke the two monsters left, saying, “We have been handsomely entertained today, and we shall repay your hospitality in full another day.” With that they both rushed out. A moment later the red sun rose high in the sky, but Sanzang was too befuddled to know where he was. Just when all seemed lost, an old man appeared, walking towards him with the help of a stick. He came up to Sanzang, broke all his bonds with a wave of his hand, and revived him by blowing into his face. Sanzang fell to his knees and bowed low to him, saying, “Thank you, venerable ancient, for saving my humble life.”
The old man returned his bow and said, “Get up. Have you lost anything?”
“My attendants have been eaten by monsters, and I don’t know where my baggage or my horse is,” replied Sanzang.
The old man pointed with his stick and asked, “Isn’t that a horse with two baggage-rolls over there?” When Sanzang turned round he saw that his things had not been lost after all, which somewhat relieved his anxiety.
“Venerable sir,” he asked, “What is this place, and how did you get here?”
“This is the Double Forked Mountain, where tigers and leopards make their dens. How did you fall in here?”
“I crossed the frontier at the garrison city of Hezhou at cockcrow, not realizing that I had got up too early,” replied Sanzang. “Just as we were making our way through frost and dew we suddenly fell into this pit. A dreadfully ferocious demon king appeared and had me and my attendants tied up. Then a dark fellow called Mountain Lord Bear and a fat one called Hermit Ox came in, and they addressed the demon king as General Yin. The three of them ate up my two attendants, and their party only ended at dawn. I cannot imagine why I should have been fated with the good fortune of you coming to rescue me, venerable sir.”
“The Hermit is a wild bull spirit, the Mountain Lord is a bear spirit, and General Yin is a tiger spirit,” the old man replied. “The fiends who serve him are mountain spirits, tree devils, monsters, and wolves. The reason they did not eat you was because your fundamental nature is enlightened. Come with me and I’ll show you the way.” Overcome with gratitude, Sanzang put the packs on his horse and led it by the bridle as he followed the old man out of the pit and on to the main road. Tying the horse to a bush beside the road, he turned round to bow low to the old man and thank him, but the old man changed into a puff of wind and rose into the sky on the back of a red-crested white crane. All that could be seen was a piece of paper drifting down in the wind with four lines of verse written on it:
“I am the Planet Venus of the Western Heaven,
Who came to save your life.
In the journey ahead you will have divine disciples:
Do not in your troubles feel angry with the scriptures.”
When he had read this Sanzang worshipped Heaven and said, “Many thanks, Planet, for delivering me from this danger.” This done, he continued on his difficult journey, feeling very lonely as he led his horse along. On this mountain there were
Cold rains and winds howling in the trees,
Streams splashing noisily down gullies,
Fragrant wild flowers,
Screens of rocks and boulders.
Deer and ape made raucous howls,
Roebuck and muntjac ran in herds.
Many were the songs of birds.
But there was no trace of man.
The abbot
Was trembling and uneasy;
His horse
Could barely lift its hoofs.
Sanzang did not spare himself as he pressed ahead amid the mountain peaks. He had been going for many hours without seeing any sign of a human house; he was hungry and finding the going heavy. Just at this critical moment he saw in front of him a pair of ferocious tigers roaring, while two long snakes were coiled up behind him. To his left were venomous reptiles, and to his right were terrible monsters. Being by himself and unable to think of a way out, Sanzang prepared to abandon his mind and body and let Heaven do as it would. Besides, the horse’s back was now so tired and its legs so bent that it fell to its knees on the ground and collapsed. Sanzang could not move it, either by blows or by dragging at its bridle.
The poor Master of the Law, who had nowhere to shelter, was feeling thoroughly wretched, convinced that nothing could save him from death. But when his troubles were at their worst someone came to his rescue. Just when all seemed lost he saw the venomous reptiles and the evil monsters flee, while the tigers and the snakes hid themselves. Sanzang looked up and saw a man coming across the hillside with a steel trident in his hand and bow and arrows at his waist. Just look and see what a fine chap he was:
On his head
A leopard skin hat with artemisia patterns:
On his body
A coat of woollen cloth.
Round his waist was tied a lion belt,
On his feet a pair of deerskin boots.
His eyes were as round as an evil spirit’s;
His curly beard was like the evil god of the moon’s.
From his waist hung a bow with poisoned arrows,
And in his hand was a steel-tipped trident.
The thunder of his voice would make a wild beast tremble,
And his ferocity terrified the pheasants.
Seeing him approach, Sanzang knelt down beside the path, put his hands together, and shouted at the top of his voice, “Spare me, bandit king, spare me.” The man went over to him, put down his trident, and raised him to his feet.
“Don’t be frightened, venerable monk,” he said, “I’m not a bad man; I’m a hunter who lives in these mountains. My name is Liu Boqin and I am known as the warden of the mountain. I came along here because I wanted a couple of animals for the pot. I never expected to meet you here—I must have offended you.”
“I am a monk sent by the Emperor of the Great Tang to visit the Buddha in the Western Heaven and ask for the scriptures,” Sanzang replied. “I had just got here when I found myself completely surrounded by wolves, tigers, snakes and other creatures, which meant that I could go no further. Then suddenly you appeared, High Warden, and saved my life. Thank you very much indeed.”
“Those of us who live here,” replied Liu Boqin, “can only support ourselves by killing tigers and wolves, and catching snakes and other reptiles, which is why all those animals fled in terror from me. As you are from the Tang Empire, we are compatriots. This is still the territory of the Great Tang, and I am a Tang citizen. Both of us depend on the Emperor’s lands and rivers for our food and drink, and we are fellow-countrymen, so there is nothing to fear. You must come with me to my hut, and your horse can rest. I’ll take you on your way tomorrow.” Sanzang, who was delighted to hear this, thanked him and went along behind him, leading the horse.
When they had crossed the mountainside they heard a sound like the howling of a wind. “Sit down here and don’t move, venerable monk,” said Boqin. “That noise like a wind means that a mountain cat is coming. Just wait a moment while I catch it, then I can take it home to feed you with.” This news so terrified Sanzang that he dared not move. The high warden was striding forward, brandishing his trident, to meet the animal, when a striped tiger appeared in front of him. At the sight of Liu Boqin the animal turned to flee, but the high warden let out a thunderclap of a shout: “Where d’you think you’re going, wretch?” When the tiger realized that Liu Boqin was in hot pursuit, it turned and charged him, baring its claws. The high warden raised his trident to meet his opponent. At the sight of all this Sanzang collapsed on the grass, paralyzed with fear; never had he seen anything so terrifying in all his born days. The tiger and the high warden fought a magnificent battle under the mountain:
Bursting with anger,
Mad with rage.
Bursting with anger,
The warden bristled, immensely strong.
Mad with rage,
The striped tiger snorted out red dust as it showed its might.
One bared its teeth and brandished its claws,
The other twisted and turned.
The trident thrust against the heavens and blotted out the sun;
The patterned tail stirred up mist and clouds.
One made wild stabs at the chest,
The other struck at the head.
To avoid the blows was to win a new life;
A hit was an appointment with the King of Hell.
All that could be heard was the tiger bellowing
And the high warden shouting.
When the tiger bellowed,
Mountains and rivers split open, to the terror of birds and beasts.
At the high warden’s shouts,
The sky was parted and the stars revealed.
The tiger’s golden eyes were bulging with fury,
The hunter’s valiant heart was full of wrath.
How admirable was high warden Liu of the mountain,
How splendid the lord of the beasts of the land.
As man and tiger fought for victory
Whoever weakened would lose his life.
After the pair of them had been fighting for about two hours the tiger’s claws began to slacken as it grew tired, and just then the high warden smote him full in the chest with his trident. Its points pierced the animal’s liver and heart, a pitiful sight. Within an instant the ground was covered with its blood as the hunter dragged it along the path by its ears. What a man! Without panting, and with his expression unchanged, he said to Sanzang, “What a piece of luck. This mountain cat will be enough! to feed you for a whole day.” Sanzang was full of praise for him.
“High Warden, you really are a mountain god.”
“It was nothing,” said Liu Boqin, “so please don’t exaggerate. This is all the result of your blessings. Come on, let’s skin it and boil up some of its meat as soon as we can so as to get you fed.” Holding his trident in one hand and dragging the tiger with the other he led the way, while Sanzang followed, leading his horse. As they wound their way across the mountain, a cottage suddenly came into view. In front of its gate there were:
Ancient trees reaching to the sky,
Wild creepers covering the path.
Cool were the wind and dust in the valleys,
Strange vapours coiled around the cliffs.
The scent of wild flowers was all along the path,
Deep, deep the green of the bamboos.
A thatched gatehouse,
A fenced yard,
Both pretty as a picture.
A stone bridge,
Whitewashed mud walls:
Charming austerity.
The loneliness of autumn,
Airy isolation.
Yellow leaves lay fallen beside the path,
White clouds drifted above the peaks.
Mountain birds sang in the woods
While a puppy barked outside the gate.
When he reached the gate, the high warden Liu Boqin threw down the tiger and shouted, “Where are you, lads?” Three or four servants of strange and repulsive appearance came out, and with much pulling and tugging they carried the tiger in. Boqin told them to skin it at once and prepare it to offer to their guest, then turned round to welcome Sanzang in. When they had formally greeted each other Sanzang bowed to Boqin to thank him for taking pity on him and saving his life.
“Why bother to thank me? We’re fellow countrymen.” When Sanzang had been offered a seat and served with tea, an old woman came out to greet him followed by a young one. Liu Boqin explained that they were his mother and his wife.
“Madam, please take the highest seat while I bow to you,” said Sanzang.
“You are a guest from afar, venerable monk, so let us each preserve our dignity and neither bow to the other,” the old woman replied.
“Mother,” said Liu Boqin, “he has been sent by His Majesty the Tang Emperor to go to the Western Heaven to see the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. I met him on the mountain, and I thought that as we were fellow-countrymen I should invite him home to rest before I take him on his way tomorrow.” The old woman was delighted.
“Good, good,” she said. “But it would be even better to ask him to stay longer. Tomorrow is the anniversary of your father’s passing away, and I would like to trouble the venerable monk to say some prayers and read a sutra for him; you could take him on his way the day after.” Although this Boqin was a tiger-killer and the high warden of the mountain, he was a dutiful son, and when he heard this suggestion he made ready paper and incense and asked Sanzang to stay.
While they talked they had not noticed the evening drawing in. The servants set out a table and stools, then brought in several dishes of tender tiger-meat, which they placed steaming hot on the table. Liu Boqin asked Sanzang to help himself while he served the rice. Putting his hands together in front of his chest, Sanzang replied, “This is wonderful, but I must tell you frankly that I have been a monk ever since I left my mother’s womb, so I am quite unable to eat meat.” Boqin thought for a while before replying, “Venerable monk, our family has not eaten vegetarian food for generations. When we cut bamboo shoots, pick fungus, gather wild vegetables for drying, or make bean-curd we always cook them in the fat of roebuck, deer, tiger or leopard, so even they aren’t really vegetarian; and our two cooking pots are steeped in fat, so what are we to do? I’m afraid it was wrong of me to ask you here.”
“There’s no need to worry,” Sanzang answered. “Please go ahead and eat. I’d go without food for four or five days, or even starve, rather than break the monastic rule about vegetarian food.”
“But we can’t have you starving to death,” protested Liu Boqin.
“Thanks to your great kindness, High Warden, I was saved from the packs of tigers and wolves. Even if I were to starve to death, it would be better than providing a meal for tigers.”
Liu Boqin’s mother, who had been listening to their conversation, said, “Don’t talk nonsense, son. I’ve got some vegetarian things that we can offer to him.”
“Where did you get them from?” Liu Boqin asked, to which mother replied, “Never you mind how, but I’ve got them.” She told her daughter-in-law to take down the little cooking-pot, burn the fat out of it, scrub it and wash it several times over, then put it back on the stove. Then they half filled it with boiling water that they threw away. Next she poured boiling water on mountain-elm leaves to make tea, boiled up some millet, and cooked some dried vegetables. This was then all put into two bowls and set on the table. Then the old woman said to Sanzang, “Please eat, venerable monk. This is completely pure tea and food that I and my daughter-in-law have prepared.” Sanzang thanked them and sat down in the seat of honour. Another place was laid for Liu Boqin, where were set out bowls and dishes full of the meat of tiger, roebuck, snake, fox, and hare, as well as dried venison, all cooked without salt or sauce, which he was going to eat while Sanzang had his vegetarian meal. He had just sat down and was on the point of picking up his chopsticks when he noticed Sanzang put his hands together to recite some scripture, which so alarmed him that instead of picking up his chopsticks he stood beside him. When Sanzang had recited a few lines he urged Boqin to eat.
“Are you a short-sutra monk then?” Boqin asked.
“That wasn’t a sutra, it was a grace before eating.”
“You get up to all sorts of tricks. Fancy reciting sutras at mealtimes,” was Boqin’s comment.
When the meal was over and the dishes had been cleared away, Liu Boqin invited Sanzang out into the gathering darkness for a stroll at the back. They went along an alley and came to a thatched hut. On pushing the door open and going in Sanzang saw bows and crossbows hanging on the walls and quivers filled with arrows. From the beams were slung two gory and stinking tiger-skins, and at the foot of the wall were stood many spears, swords, tridents and clubs. In the middle were two seats. Liu Boqin urged Sanzang to sit down, but Sanzang could not bear to stay there long among the horrifying filth, and so he went outside. Going further to the back they came to a large garden full of clumps of yellow chrysanthemums and red maple-trees. Then with a whinnying noise about a dozen plump deer and a large herd of roebuck ran out; they were docile and unfrightened on seeing humans.
“Were those roebuck and deer raised by you?” asked Sanzang.
“Yes,” replied Boqin. “When you Chang’an people have some money you buy valuables, and when you have land you accumulate grain; but we hunters can only keep a few wild animals for a rainy day.” Dusk had fallen unnoticed as the two of them talked, and now they went back to the house to sleep.
Early the next morning the whole family, young and old, got up and prepared vegetarian food for the monk, and then they asked him to start reciting sutras. Sanzang washed his hands, went to the family shrine of the high warden, burned incense there, and worshipped, then beat his “wooden fish” as he recited first a prayer to purify his mouth, then a holy spell to purify his body and mind, and finally the Sutra to Deliver the Dead. When he had finished, Boqin asked him to write out a letter of introduction for the dead man and also recite the Diamond Sutra and the Guanyin Sutra. Sanzang recited them in a loud, clear voice and then ate lunch, after which he read out the several chapters of the Lotus Sutra, the Amitabha Sutra, as well as one chapter of the Peacock Sutra and told the story of the cleansing of the bhikshu. By now it was dark, and when they had burned all kinds of incense, paper money, and paper horses for all the gods, and the letter of introduction for the dead man, the service was over and everyone went to bed and slept soundly.
The soul of Boqin’s father, now delivered from being a drowned ghost, came to the house that night and appeared in a dream to everyone in the family.
“I suffered long in the underworld, unable to find deliverance,” he said, “but now that the saintly monk has wiped out my sins by reading some scriptures. King Yama has had me sent back to the rich land of China to be reborn in an important family. You must reward him generously, and no half measures. Now I’m going.” Indeed:
Great is the significance of the majestic Law,
That saves the dead from suffering and the morass.
When they all awoke from their dreams, the sun had already risen in the East. Boqin’s wife said, “Warden, your father came to me in a dream last night. He said that he had suffered long in the underworld, and couldn’t find deliverance. Now that the saintly monk has wiped out his sins by reading some scriptures, King Yama has had him sent back to the rich land of China to be reborn in an important family. He told us to thank him generously, and no half measures. When he’d said this he went out through the door and drifted away. He didn’t answer when I called, and I couldn’t make him stay. Then I woke up and realized that it was a dream.”
“I had a dream just like yours,” replied Liu Boqin. “Let’s go and tell mother about it.” As they were on the point of doing this they heard his mother shout, “Come here, Boqin my son. There’s something I want to tell you.” The two of them went in to her to find the old woman sitting on the bed.
“My child, I had a happy dream last night. Your father came home and said that thanks to his salvation by the venerable monk, his sins have been wiped out and he has gone to be reborn in an important family in the rich land of China.” Husband and wife laughed for joy and her son said, “I and my wife both had this dream, and we were just coming to tell you when you called to us. So now it turns out that you it too.” They told everyone in the house to get up to thank Sanzang and get his horse loaded and ready. They all bowed to him and he said, “Many thanks, venerable monk, for recommending my father for delivery from his sufferings and for rebirth. We can never repay this debt of gratitude.”
“What powers have I that you should thank me?” replied Sanzang.
Boqin told him about what the three of them had been told in their dreams, and Sanzang was happy too. Then they gave him his breakfast and an ounce of silver as an expression of their thanks, but he would not take a single penny of it, although the whole family begged and beseeched him to do so.
“If in your mercy you could escort me for the next stage of my journey I would be deeply touched,” he said. All that Boqin, his mother, and his wife could do then was to prepare some scones of coarse wheaten flour as his provisions, and make sure that Boqin escorted him a long way. Sanzang gladly accepted the food. On his mother’s orders the high warden told two or three servants to bring hunting gear as they set off together along the road. They saw no end of wild mountain scenery.
When they had been travelling for some time they saw a mountain in front of them, a high and precipitous one that towered right up to the azure sky. Before long they had reached its base. The high warden climbed it as if he were walking on level ground, and when they were half-way over it he turned round, stood beside the path and said, “Venerable monk, I must ask you to take yourself on from here. I have to go back.” On hearing this Sanzang tumbled out of his saddle to say, “Please, please, take me another stage, High Warden.”
“You don’t seem to know that this is called Double Boundary Mountain,” said the high warden. The Eastern part belongs to our Great Tang, but the Western parts is Tatar territory. The tigers and wolves on that side are not subject to my control, which is why I can’t cross the boundary. You mast go on by yourself. The monk was so alarmed to hear this that he waved his arms around and grabbed hold of the hunter’s clothes and sleeves, weeping and refusing to let him go. When at last Sanzang was bowing repeatedly to the hunter to take his leave, a shout like thunder came from under the mountain: “My master’s come, my master’s come.” Sanzang stood frozen with fear at the sound of it, and Boqin had to hold him up. If you don’t know who it was who shouted, listen to the explanation in the next installment.