Chapter 8 Ying-lo


Ying-lo listened in wonder to Iron Staff's little poem, and when he had finished, the boy's face was glowing with the love of which the fairy had spoken. “My poor, poor father and mother!” he cried; “they knew nothing of these beautiful things you are telling me. They were brought up in poverty. As they were knocked about in childhood by those around them, so they learned to beat others who begged them for help. Is it strange that they did not have hearts full of pity for you when you looked like a beggar?”

“But what about you, my boy? You were not deaf when I asked you. Have you not been whipped and punished all your life? How then did you learn to look with love at those in tears?”

The child could not answer these questions, but only looked sorrowfully at Iron Staff. “Oh, can you not, good fairy, will you not restore my parents and brothers, and give them another chance to be good and useful people?”

“Listen, Ying-lo; it is impossible—unless you do two things first,” he answered, stroking his beard gravely and leaning heavily upon his staff.

“What are they? What must I do to save my family? Anything you ask of me will not be too much to pay for your kindness.”

“First you must tell me of some good deed done by these people for whose lives you are asking. Name only one, for that will be enough; but it is against our rules to help those who have done nothing.”

Ying-lo was silent, and for a moment his face was clouded. “Yes, I know,” he said finally, brightening. “They burned incense once at the temple. That was certainly a deed of virtue.”

“But when was it, little one, that they did this?”

“When my big brother was sick, and they were praying for him to get well. The doctors could not save him with boiled turnip juice or with any other of the medicines they used, so my parents begged the gods.”

“Selfish, selfish!” muttered Iron Staff. “If their eldest son had not been dying they would have spent no money at the temple. They tried in this way to buy back his health, for they were expecting him to support them in their old age.”

Ying-lo's face fell. “You are right,” he answered.

“Can you think of nothing else?”

“Yes, oh, yes, last year when the foreigner rode through our village and fell sick in front of our house, they took him in and cared for him.”

“How long?” asked the other sharply.

“Until he died the next week.”

“And what did they do with the mule he was riding, his bed, and the money in his bag? Did they try to restore them to his people?”

“No, they said they'd keep them to pay for the trouble.” Ying-lo's face turned scarlet.

“But try again, dear boy! Is there not one little deed of goodness that was not selfish? Think once more.”

For a long time Ying-lo did not reply. At length he spoke in a low voice; “I think of one, but I fear it amounts to nothing.”

“No good, my child is too small to be counted when the gods are Wunghing a man's heart.”

“Last spring the birds were eating in my father's garden. My mother wanted to buy poison from the shop to destroy them, but my father said no, that the little things must live, and he for one was not in favor of killing them.”

“At last, Ying-lo, you have named a real deed of mercy, and as he spared the tiny birds from poison, so shall his life and the lives of your mother and brothers be restored from the deadly plague.

“But remember there is one other thing that depends on you.”

Ying-lo's eyes glistened gratefully. “Then if it rests with me, and I can do it, you have my promise. No sacrifice should be too great for a son to make for his loved ones even though his life itself is asked in payment.”

“Very well, Ying-lo. What I require is that you carry out to the letter my instructions. Now it is time for me to keep my promise to you.”

So saying, Iron Staff called on Ying-lo to point out the members of his family, and, approaching them one by one, with the end of his iron stick he touched their foreheads. In an instant each, without a word, arose. Looking round and recognising Ying-lo, they stood back, frightened at seeing him with the fairy. When the last had risen to his feet, Iron Staff beckoned all of them to listen. This they did willingly, too much terrified to speak, for they saw on all sides signs of the plague that had swept over the vessel, and they remembered the frightful agony they had suffered in dying. Each knew that he had been lifted by some magic power from darkness into light.

“My friends,” began the fairy, “little did you think when less than a year ago you drove me from your door that soon you yourselves would be in need of mercy. To-day you have had a peep into the awful land of Yama. You have seen the horror of his tortures, have heard the screams of his slaves, and by another night you would have been carried before him to be judged. What power is it that has saved you from his clutches? As you look back through your wicked lives can you think of any reason why you deserved this rescue? No, there is no memory of goodness in your black hearts. Well, I shall tell you: it is this little boy, this Ying-lo, who many times has felt the Wunght of your wicked hands and has hidden in terror at your coming. To him alone you owe my help.”

Father, mother, and brothers all gazed in turn, first at the fairy and then at the timid child whose eyes fell before their looks of gratitude.

“By reason of his goodness this child whom you have scorned is worthy of a place within the Western Heaven. In truth, I came this very day to lead him to that fairyland. For you, however, he wishes to make a sacrifice. With sorrow I am yielding to his wishes. His sacrifice will be that of giving up a place among the fairies and of continuing to live here on this earth with you. He will try to make a change within your household. If at any time you treat him badly and do not heed his wishes—mark you well my words—by the power of this magic staff which I shall place in his hands, he may enter at once into the land of the fairies, leaving you to die in your wickedness. This I commanded him to do, and he has promised to obey my slightest wish.

“This plague took you off suddenly and ended your wicked lives. Ying-lo has raised you from its grasp and his power can lift you from the bed of sin. No other hand than his can bear the rod which I am leaving. If one of you but touch it, instantly he will fall dead upon the ground.

“And now, my child, the time has come for me to leave you. First, however, I must show you what you are now able to do. Around you lay the corpses of sailors and passengers. Tap three times upon the mast and wish that they shall come to life,” So saying he handed Ying-lo the iron staff.

Although the magic rod was heavy, the child lifted it as if it were a fairy's wand. Then, stepping forward to the mast, he rapped three times as he had been commanded. Immediately on all sides arose the bodies, once more full of life and strength.

“Now command the ship to take you back to your home port, for such sinful creatures as these are in no way fit to make a journey among strangers. They must first return and free their homes of sin.”

Again rapping on the mast, the child willed the great vessel to take its homeward course. No sooner had he moved the staff than, like a bird wheeling in the heavens, the bark swung round and started on the return journey, swifter than a flash of lightning, flew the boat, for it was now become a fairy vessel. Before the sailors and the travellers could recover from their surprise, land was sighted and they saw that they were indeed entering the harbor.

Just as the ship was darting toward the shore the fairy suddenly, with a parting word to Ying-lo, changed into a flaming ball of fire which rolled along the deck and ascended the spars. Then, as it reached the top of the rigging, it floated off into the blue sky, and all on board, speechless with surprise, watched it until it vanished.

With a cry of thanksgiving, Ying-lo flung his arms about his parents and descended with them to the shore.


After the tale was finished, Kazuma knew where next he must go, to Chigrin. So far he only knows that the thing he must do involves a dragon, emperor, heaven.

He saddled his horse and went straight for Chigrin.

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