Chapter 66 — Sacrificing to the Water God
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 4
Shen Mu drove the cart to the bank of the Yong River, where the lame old man had built a great bamboo raft. Carefully he drove the ox cart onto the raft; the lame old man untied the mooring rope, and the raft drifted downstream, faster and faster.
Even at that speed it would take four or five days to reach Crimson Dragon City. After drifting forty-odd li, the blind elder tapped the water with his bamboo staff, and at once the raft made for the bank.
Wondering what it meant, Shen Mu looked up toward the shore and saw that this was the way to the Granny Temple; already a great crowd from the various villages had gathered there, most of them driving ox carts and horse carts, waiting by the river.
The Yong River was treacherous, its current swift, and its waters full of water monsters and fierce great fish; so villagers from the different villages would usually choose the same day to travel to Crimson Dragon City together, for with many people there was help and comfort for one another.
The bank was crowded with rafts, and more were still coming from afar, until before long a hundred or so rafts had gathered there. The blind elder took out several sticks of incense, lit them against the wind, and planted them by the riverside; other villagers came forward one after another and planted stick after stick of incense along the bank, until the shore was wreathed in fragrant smoke that drifted with the light breeze toward the middle of the river.
Suddenly someone cried out a ringing, resonant chant, and then more voices joined, singing aloud together on the bank. It was a river song, and it sang of the sacrifice to the river god: "With you I roam the nine rivers, where the gale rises and the waters lift their waves; I ride a water-chariot with a lotus canopy, driving two dragons and a pair of serpents; I climb Kunlun and gaze in four directions, my heart soaring, boundless and free; the day will darken and I pine, forgetting to return; only the far shores wake longing in me.
" The ancient tones turned in nose and throat, and as the villagers sang together, their voices rose and fell, solemn and stirring; the scene moved Shen Mu in a way he could not name.
Suddenly the water ahead parted, and one vast creature after another lifted its head from the depths. What rose from the water were huge beasts, blue-green of back, with four great webbed limbs like fish fins; their heads were much like a fish's, yet they had long snouts, like so many spears.
One beast after another lifted its head like a small hill and brought its snout to the incense on the bank, drawing in hard; the sticks of incense along the shore burned away swiftly, and the smoke passed into the great beasts' nostrils.
The beasts closed their eyes, and after a moment opened their mouths and blew out a great ring of smoke, seeming very well content.
The villagers seized the moment to drive their ox carts onto the beasts' long blue-green backs.
Seeing this, Shen Mu hurriedly drove onto the back of one of the creatures too; Granny Zhu took out a large piece of meat she had prepared long before and threw it into the water.
The beast ate the meat, gave a long bellow, and then its four webbed feet paddled, bearing the ox cart and the three people on it downstream.
Behind them, beast after blue-backed beast gave long calls, and the cries rose and fell across the river, keeping time with the villagers' singing as it rose and sank, paused and pressed on; the great beasts carried them upstream.
"This is a beast found nowhere but the Yong River, called the river-bearer," said Granny Zhu. "To the folk who live along the river, the river-bearer is the river god in their hearts.
They love the smoke of incense, they love to eat beef, but what they love best is to hear songs, songs that praise them.