In the autumn of the year the ten slips hung in a single line on Cao Cao's (曹操) wall at Xudu (許都), we turn our gaze south.

On an autumn evening of that same year, the water of Tanxi (檀溪), west of Xiangyang (襄陽), shone black under the moonlight. Its depth was said to be more than twice a grown man's height, and its width came near three zhang (丈). The mud of both banks lay thick enough to swallow a horse's four feet at a single step. The reeds along the water bent hard to the wind, then hard again the other way.

The banquet in the Western Garden (西園) of the Inspector's residence (刺史府) had run from afternoon into evening. Liu Bei (劉備) sat upon the short-legged chair of the lowest seat, passing his fifth or sixth cup. Guan Yu (關羽) and Zhang Fei (張飛), in the side room, each kept their own seats.

Around the sixth round of cups, Yi Ji (伊籍), an attending official (從事), stepped quietly out to the back garden. A moment later Liu Bei rose as well, said, "I shall step out briefly," and left his seat. By a well in the back garden, Yi Ji was waiting. His voice was low.

"Your Highness the Imperial Uncle (皇叔). Before this night is out, pass out through the west gate of Xiangyang. Cai Mao (蔡瑁) has already posted soldiers outside three gates — east, south, and north. Only at the west gate, a stream called Tanxi blocks the way; no soldiers stand there."

Liu Bei was silent a while. Then quietly he asked.

"Is it a stream one can cross?"

"No. But if Your Highness's horse Dilu (的盧) crosses it, that would be not a work of men but a work of Heaven."

Liu Bei bowed his head. He returned to his seat. The seventh round of cups came. He received it with a face on which nothing had happened.

At the moment the banquet in the Western Garden grew disordered, Liu Bei quietly rose. Through the rear door, through the dark alleys of Xiangyang, he reached the small stable beneath the west gate. Dilu was already awake. The white strand on his brow glinted faintly under the moonlight. Dilu had been beside Liu Bei ever since he entered Jingzhou six years before. The rumor of Jingzhou called this horse "the horse that brings harm upon its master." Knowing the rumor, Liu Bei had not cast him out.

Liu Bei mounted. The instant the horse took his master's weight, his two ears stood up alert. The west gate opened quietly — Yi Ji had spoken in advance to the gatekeeper. The gate closed behind him with one heavy sound. The moment that sound rang, footfalls began to pour from inside the city. Cai Mao's men.

In the side room, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei had already slung their blades at their waists and risen. But a small gesture from Liu Bei earlier had set the role of the two younger brothers for this evening: to buy, with their own bodies, a pause of time after the elder passed the west gate. Zhang Fei gave a large stretch first. "Ah, I am drunk." Guan Yu, with a cold face, quietly stepped into the path of one of Cai Mao's men running first.

Outside the west gate, along a narrow road, Dilu ran, kicking up a trail of dust.

At the end of the western road, the single line of Tanxi's water lay crosswise. Liu Bei pulled on the reins. Before the bank, Dilu gave a great snort. Behind, hoofbeats came — three horses, four, five. Cai Mao's patrol. Cold sweat ran down the back of Liu Bei's neck.

Liu Bei patted Dilu's neck firmly.

"Dilu. Until this day the rumor has called you the horse that brings harm upon his master. Tonight, will you overturn that rumor for me?"

Dilu's two ears stood up again, alert. Liu Bei tightened his grip on the reins and struck Dilu's flank with one hard kick of his heel. Dilu dipped on his knees before the bank, and at the next moment sprang all four legs into the air together.

In midair, Dilu's four legs extended long.

The white strand on his brow flashed once more under the moonlight. The black water of the stream seemed, for a pause, not to flow at all. Liu Bei's two eyes fixed upon a single pine on the far bank. A strand of that pine's needles swayed lightly in the wind.

The four feet of Dilu came down, all at once, upon the earth of the far bank. The earth gouged out wide. His two front legs sank to the knee. But Dilu, staggering, took two more paces forward. His hind legs caught up. All four feet stood upon the bank.

Behind, the five men of Cai Mao's patrol reined up and stood. The mouths of all five opened. None of them dared attempt the leap. One muttered, "A place a man dies crossing, a single horse has crossed."

Within the dark behind the pine on the far bank, Liu Bei could not settle his breath for a long while. Dilu gave a low snort. That snort covered the hoofbeats on the opposite bank.

A horse of whom it had been rumored for six years that he brought harm upon his master had tonight, for the first time, saved his master's life. The white strand on his brow shone faintly even within the dark. Across the water the horse had first crossed, the master sat with his breath not yet fully gathered. His posture was a little unsteady, but somewhere within him a resolve was already hardening. The thing that had saved his life tonight was not a work of man but a work of horse. How to repay that debt — was a sentence for tomorrow.

Tonight's sentence was this single line. The water the horse crossed first had brought the first foreboding of a certain man's three strides over to its own farther bank.

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