FOUR GENERALS
Prince Chang petitioned his father, the King. “My Honored Parent, give me permission to make a journey throughout the kingdom. I would learn how the people live, and note wherein they are contented and discontented. Thus I shall be prepared against the time when I ascend the throne.” The King nodded approval. “Your plan is good, my son. I shall immediately order that new gold tires be put upon the royal carriage, and summon ten troops of cavalry to guard you.” But the prince would not listen to such arrangements. “Oh, no, sire, I mean to go alone and in disguise. Instead of the carriage, a stick will serve for my vehicle. Instead of the troops, that selfsame stick will guard me.”
Whereat, the King was greatly troubled, and the prince was put to much argument before he won his point. “Then do as you wish, my only and much beloved son,” said the King, grudgingly. “But it behooves you to observe extreme care. Disorder is rife in all the provinces. Go, and may your stick be as strong as the magic mace of Sun How Erh.”
“Farewell, my royal father.”
“Farewell, my noble son.”
Now it must be remembered that Prince Chang was no graybeard. In years he was nearing thirteen. Is it, after all, such a great wonder that homesickness caused his heels to drag, and his eyes to need the kerchief? He had walked all of twenty li. That, he began to imagine, was journey enough for the present. To the edge of Hu Pei Forest he continued. At the edge of the forest he stopped. The woodland was so dark . . . so dark. The wolves howled “Oo-o-o-o-o-wh—We starve.” And such a futile little stick with which to enter the forest of Hu Pei. “Oo-o-o-o-owh.” What wolves. . . .
The prince had turned his face toward home when a merry voice hailed him. “Ho. Brother, I’m glad you are come. Tell me if my fiddle be in tune.” A comical fellow hopped down from a stump and chinned his fiddle while Prince Chang stared. “Eek. Eek. Eeek.” “How does it sound, little brother?” “I dare say it——” But the fiddler was not waiting for an answer. His bow arm fell to sawing while his legs and voice joined in the tune—“A beggar asked the King to dine.” And that’s a foolish song. Prince Chang thought he had never before heard or seen anything so funny by half. The more he laughed the greater his need for laughter. Such a comical beggar and how he could play and sing.
From one end of Hu Pei Forest to the other Prince Chang laughed while the beggar capered and fiddled. No wolves at all appeared. Homesickness was a thing of the past—forgotten. “Let me give you a copper cash, merry stranger,” said Chang, when they came to a Y of the road. “Not now,” said he of the fiddle and bow. “I judge you are poorer than I.” “Indeed?” laughed the prince. “When I am King (he forgot himself there), I shall reward you handsomely.” “Ho. Ho,” shrieked the beggar. “When you are King. When you are King, I’ll accept a reward. Make me a general in your army.” “It shall be done,” said Chang. “What is your very nice name?” “My pitiful name is Tang—Tang, the fiddler. Farewell, my little King, who rides a bamboo horse.” So, they parted, both merry.