From Shen Su City marched a thousand braves, clad in glistening armor, bearing those tremendously long spears called chang chiang. Of course, they wore hideous false faces. That was the custom of all eastern soldiers. Behind the spear bearers marched a thousand archers. The wall of Shen Su suddenly bristled with spears, a thousand more. The enemy could not retreat. There was the river to hinder. To advance seemed utter folly. What effect could little arrows have on weighty armor? And how could five hundred prevail against six times and more their number? To surrender seemed the only course, and that is what they did. But it was grievous hard. Their leader was of royal blood. No worse disgrace could have been his lot.
Those on the shore beyond were made to cast their weapons in the river. With their royal leader a prisoner, they dared not disobey, for fear he would be slain. Their captors looked quite capable of such action. The crestfallen enemy had no faintest dream that those captors were . . . girls . . . led by Chai Mi. How could they know? The deceit was well concealed. An ancient little tailor did the talking, and he, proud of his chance to swagger, talked with a terrible voice—violently threatening. But Chai Mi, resplendent in the King’s golden armor, told him what to say. And the other maids clashed their spears upon the river stones, as if angry at being deprived of living targets.
King Ta Lang in his swan-shaped sampan was crossing Lan River when he heard of Chai Mi’s stirring deed. He could scarce believe his ears. The couriers vowed that they spoke no exaggeration. Convinced at last, the King said: “Then Chai Mi has done us a great service. She shall receive honors without stint.” But the King’s chief general was more than jealous because Chai Mi had succeeded where he had failed. This general said, “Has Your Majesty forgotten the law?”
“What law?” asked King Ta Lang.
“The law made by your illustrious ancestor, Liu Ti. The law of Liu Ti says that no woman may put on the habiliments of a King. Death is the penalty for so doing. The maiden put on Your Majesty’s armor.”
The King heard with grief. He said: “That is truth. There is such a law, and laws, good or bad, must be enforced. By the law of my noble ancestor, the maiden Chai Mi must lose her head by the sword.”
And the jealous general said, “Here is a death warrant for your signature.”
Now whether the King would really have beheaded Chai Mi, no man can say. His boat suddenly disappeared beneath the waters and was seen no more. The wise men said that he had excited the wrath of Yu Shih, Master of Waters, and father of the maiden. That may, or may not, be true. Again, no man can say.
But this can be said, without fear of dispute. King Meng and his Queen ruled over Shen Su for many a year, and there was neither flood nor famine—only a great tranquillity.