A Hunt to Test the Court
After the Gyeyu Coup, Suyang's cronies swaggered about as though the world belonged to them alone.
Men who had been nobodies before the coup now held a ministerial seat apiece, each one suddenly a State Councillor or a Minister of this or that. Suyang himself had taken the posts of Chief State Councillor, Minister of Personnel, and Minister of War, and had gone further—establishing a new office of Commander-in-Chief of Military Affairs—thereby seizing both the power of appointment and command of the army in one fell swoop.
The true master of Joseon now was not the king, Hong-wi, but Suyang.
Of course, Suyang's faction had no intention of stopping there. Their gazes stretched ever higher—toward a place a subject dared not even glance at. And since most of the men who had led the coup with him were little better than thugs to begin with, nothing held them back.
"My lord, what is there to hesitate over at this point?"
Hong Yun-seong, Chief Royal Inspector of the Office of the Censorate, pressed the argument forcefully. A former military officer by origin, he never moderated his words.
He had been among Suyang's oldest and most trusted subordinates, and it was he who had first counseled Suyang to drive out Hong-wi. In truth, the man he had introduced was none other than Gwon Ram, and through Gwon Ram the core figures of Suyang's faction—Han Myeong-hoe, Shin Suk-ju, Jeong In-ji—had gathered under the prince's banner. Hong Yun-seong was, in his own quiet way, one of the hidden architects of the Gyeyu Coup.
"Every undertaking has its proper moment, and that moment is now. Let the days slip by in idle delay, and the boy king will grow—and then it will be too late for everything. The blood we spilled in the year of Gyeyu... what else was it for, if not this?"
"Suo speaks the truth."
Hong Dal-son, Vice Minister of War, lowered his voice as he spoke. Both men had risen from the ranks of military officers—Hong Yun-seong brash and hot-blooded, while Hong Dal-son, a former swordsman of the Inner Royal Guard, carried himself with greater gravity.
"We all know full well that my lord's ambitions reach far beyond his present seat. What is there to hesitate about!"
Despite his minions' urging, Suyang remained silent, giving away neither pleasure nor displeasure. He turned to Han Myeong-hoe, Right Deputy Director of the Royal Secretariat, who stood among them.
"What say you, Myeong-hoe?"
Han Myeong-hoe smiled faintly. "I too believe the moment is ripe."
"If you say so, then so it must be."
Suyang made no effort to hide his satisfaction. His reluctance had been mere ceremony, a single step back for the sake of appearances—inside, he had been itching to accept his men's plea at once. Was that not the very reason he had staged the coup?
At that moment Han Myeong-hoe spoke again. "That said... before we act, we ought first to test the officials of the court."
"A test? What test?"
Suyang repeated the word several times, tilting his head. "What manner of test?"
"The fact that they sided with us during the coup does not make them trustworthy. Many of them merely stood aside out of pure dislike for the factions of Hwangbo-in and Kim Jong-seo. Put another way—just because they raised no objection to the coup, it does not follow that they will consent to my lord ascending the throne."
"Is that all?"
Hong Yun-seong snorted. "This country already lies in our hands. What is there to fret over now?"
The words of a man born with iron in his bones brooked no argument.
"Well, it never hurts to knock on a bridge before crossing it, does it?" Han Myeong-hoe replied with an oily smile.
Hong Yun-seong lost interest and turned back to Suyang, his eyes asking plainly: My lord, what will you do?
Suyang turned to Gwon Ram, Left Deputy Director of the Royal Secretariat. "And your view, Jeonggyeong?"
Gwon Ram appeared to consider for a moment before giving his answer. "I too think it no bad idea to test whether the court ministers follow my lord with sincere hearts—or merely feign obedience on the surface."
Suyang nodded. "True enough. Even rice chokes a man if he eats too fast. Very well—what would this test look like? Have you something in mind?"
"Yes. I have, of course, thought it through."
Han Myeong-hoe smiled slyly.
Having heard everything, Suyang nodded. "Good. They say even iron must be hammered while hot—soon enough, I shall meet Hong-wi myself."
He spoke the king's name without the slightest hesitation. Such was his confidence that the nation of Joseon already lay within his grasp.
Suyang went straight to the palace with his trusted men at his heels. Hong-wi, bewildered by his uncle's sudden visit, had no idea what to make of it—and before he could ask, Suyang bluntly requested to go hunting.
"Hunting?"
"Yes. A hunt."
Suyang answered curtly, as if to ask why the boy would bother to repeat such an obvious thing.
"So suddenly—in the dead of winter?"
Hong-wi was far from keen. It was not the hunt itself he shunned, but the fact that he could not fathom his uncle's purpose in pressing for one so abruptly. Besides, his father's mourning period had not yet ended—and above all, it was the depths of winter.
"I am still in mourning, and to move horses and soldiers in such cold would impose terrible hardship on the soldiers and the people alike."
His objection was entirely reasonable. But Suyang had his own aims, and he did not yield an inch.
"As Your Majesty knows, the wild Jurchen chieftains of the northern frontier have lately come to pay homage at the court, have they not?"
"They have."
Just as Joseon sent envoys and paid tribute to the Ming dynasty since its founding, so too had Joseon received tribute from the Jurchen tribes of the north. The chieftains of the Jianzhou Guard and Moryeon Guard along the northern border regularly sent their sons, or came in person all the way to Hanyang, to pay respects to the king and offer local goods as tribute.
This time, too, the Jurchen chieftains of Moryeonwi—Dong Sok-ro-jeop-mok-a, Nangbal-ahan, and Yi Gwi-ya—had arrived and were staying in the capital. Real power had long since passed into the hands of Suyang's faction after the Gyeyu Coup, but Hong-wi was not ignorant even of matters like these.
"Of late, the traitor Yi Jing-ok plotted rebellion in Hamgil Province and, mercifully, was put to death—but who can say whether the wild tribes have not taken it into their heads to turn against us because of it? Yi Jing-ok's example demands vigilance, yet there are still those who slight the dignity of our sovereign and stir up trouble."
Suyang spoke with perfect composure, without a drop of shame.
Hong-wi, for his part, was clever if he was anything—not a fool by any measure. But he gave nothing away.
"Then it is a grave matter indeed."
"A grave matter it is. Which is why we must use this occasion to establish the sovereign's majesty before the Jurchen chieftains and the people alike. From of old, the hunt has been a form of military training—but it has also been a fine means by which a sovereign asserts his personal dignity."
Hong-wi stared hard at Suyang. Suyang did not avoid the gaze; if anything, he seemed to savor it.
Though barely past boyhood, Hong-wi was not so naive as to miss what was happening. He found it deeply unpleasant—but there was nothing he could do.
"Very well. We shall do as my uncle wishes."
"Your servant shall see to all the arrangements."
The moment Hong-wi gave his consent, Suyang summoned the officials of the court. To the ministers who gathered, wondering what the matter could be, he announced that the king would hold a great hunt.
"This is to establish the authority of our sovereign. All ministers of the court are to attend."
At Suyang's command, every court official except his own cronies wore sour expressions on their faces.
Military men might have tolerated it, but for the civil officials, tramping out into the freezing winter for a hunt held little appeal. Worse still was the sight of Suyang issuing orders as though he were already king. Though, realistically speaking, no one was so oblivious as to be unaware that Suyang was, in all but name, the ruler now.
With a smile spread across his whole face, Suyang studied the hesitant, irresolute expressions of the court ministers, taking in every detail.
After all—who would dare object?
He glanced sidelong at Han Myeong-hoe. Han Myeong-hoe merely smiled and said nothing.
"Is there anyone with a differing opinion?"
"There is."
Seong Sam-mun, Vice Director of the Ministry of Rites, spoke up.
At this unlooked-for challenge, Suyang's face twitched slightly—but he forced himself to remain composed and asked again. "And what opinion would that be, Geunbo?"
"The late king's mourning has not yet ended; to hold a hunt now violates the rites. Moreover, it is winter. A great hunt is not fitting at such a time. First, the soldiers who take part will be worn to exhaustion; second, the common folk charged with preparing the hunt will suffer grievously."
"Geunbo's counsel is just."
Park Paeng-nyeon rose to agree with Seong Sam-mun's objection. With these two men—leaders of the young officials drawn from the Hall of Worthies—standing in opposition, the atmosphere turned delicate.
Suyang glared at the pair with ill-concealed displeasure.
So they would dare stand against me.
The taste in his mouth was bitter. Han Myeong-hoe's warning had proved accurate, after all. He clicked his tongue inwardly and stole another glance at the man.
Sensing his lord's gaze, Han Myeong-hoe, Right Deputy Director of the Royal Secretariat, stepped forward.
"Vice Director Seong's words are indeed reasonable—but they betray knowledge of one thing and ignorance of two."
Every eye turned to him at once.
"All here know that recently the remnants of Hwangbo-in and Kim Jong-seo attempted to raise rebellion in Hamgil Province. We were fortunate to suppress it before it began—but there is no guarantee such a thing will not happen again. The armies of the capital must therefore be kept in training, and a hunt is excellent military drill. Just now Geunbo spoke of winter—but can you promise me that rebels dreaming of upheaval will hold still because it is winter?"
The assembled officials dared not step forward, and silence fell.
Han Myeong-hoe continued. "Moreover, many regard His Majesty with contempt on account of his youth. On this occasion, he must hunt in person and proclaim his majesty to the four seas and all nations. It will serve as a fine lesson to the Jurchen chieftains as well. As you all know, has not the Moryeon Guard been steeped in Yi Jing-ok's influence?"
Seong Sam-mun nearly laughed aloud.
Suyang's faction, worried for the young king's prestige? This was nothing less than a cat worrying over the fishmonger's shop!
The moment Han Myeong-hoe finished, Suyang stepped in as though he had been waiting for exactly that.
"His Majesty has already given his consent. Argue the matter no further."
The wedge was driven home. Seong Sam-mun withdrew, seething with disgust, and Park Paeng-nyeon followed him out.
"What on earth is Suyang thinking, calling for a hunt out of nowhere?"
"I cannot say for certain—but judging by his conduct, the decision was made before he ever asked."
There was not the slightest chance that Suyang's faction genuinely cared for the young king's dignity. Seong Sam-mun frowned. Then why—why, of all things, a hunt?
The preparations proceeded at breakneck speed. The site chosen was the slopes of Cheonggye Mountain, and officials swept the whole area clean in advance.
"Swept clean" was a generous term: the homes around the hunting grounds were demolished, half by force. The outcries of commoners made homeless in the bitter cold rose high—but to Suyang's faction, who would pluck a bird from the very sky, such things amounted to nothing.
A few days later, the royal hunting procession set out for Cheonggye Mountain. Suyang presided over the hunt in his capacity as Commander-in-Chief of Military Affairs.
The procession was magnificent beyond measure. With the entire court in attendance, it was as though the government of Joseon itself had picked up and moved. Seong Sam-mun and Park Paeng-nyeon were among the crowd.
"What a spectacle, truly," Park Paeng-nyeon muttered. Seong Sam-mun answered only with a silent nod. He was still puzzling over what reason Suyang could have for holding the hunt at all.
Though the winter was bitterly cold, the people of Hanyang—never ones to miss such a rare spectacle—lined the roads in long ranks to watch. Catching sight of Hong-wi, they murmured among themselves.
"To think—a boy like that is our sovereign lord."
"How can anyone be so fair to look upon!"
"Poor child, to inherit the throne at such a tender age. Orphaned of both parents, no less..."
Riding at Hong-wi's side, Suyang did not find the people's murmuring altogether unpleasant. So the popular heart pitied the young king—such sympathy could turn, before long, into distrust and contempt, easily enough.
Yet the people were quietly marveling at Hong-wi's commanding bearing as well.
"So young, and yet there is nothing ordinary about his presence."
"Indeed. He has the makings of a true sovereign."
And in truth, Hong-wi's appearance gave them every reason to marvel. Though still a youth in his teens, his frame—like that of his father, said to resemble Guan Yu of the Three Kingdoms—was built on a foundation of solid, imposing bone.
Yet he did not look brutish in the least. His beard had not yet grown full, but his features, resembling his mother who had died early, were fine-drawn and refined. And if one looked closely into his two eyes, one glimpsed a certain nameless melancholy—the peculiar shadow of one who had lost his parents young and taken up a heavy burden before his time.
Such a thing might have made him seem frail. Instead, it stirred in all who saw him a longing to protect him.
Since this was an occasion for the hunting field, Hong-wi wore not the dragon-embroidered gonryongpo but martial dress. Still within the mourning period for his father, he had draped himself in a plain black cheollik—and the ominous black, which might have seemed sinister, gave off instead an air of austere grace.
In a word, Hong-wi possessed a presence that drew every eye to him.
When they arrived at Cheonggye Mountain, Gang Hui-maeng, Vice Director of the Ministry of Rites, came forward to report.
"The Jurchen chieftains await an audience with His Majesty. I respectfully make this known."
At this, Suyang nodded and turned to Hong-wi. "The chieftains have arrived. Grant them your audience."
"So we shall."
Hong-wi answered quietly. Before long, the Moryeon Guard chieftains Dong Sok-ro-jeop-mok-a and Nangbal-ahan stepped forward and, before Hong-wi, offered their greetings according to the customs of the wild tribes. Hong-wi returned their courtesy in kind.
Trained for years in the education of princes, his every movement and manner was beyond reproach.
The eldest of them, Dong Sok-ro-jeop-mok-a, introduced himself. Somewhat surprisingly, he could speak Korean, though tinged with a Hamgil accent.
"My name is Surtemur, and this friend of mine is Rangbarkan. It is our great honor to behold Your Majesty today."
He had rendered their names in the Jurchen fashion: Sok-ro-jeop-mok-a as Surtemur, and Nangbal-ahan as Rangbarkan.
Hong-wi expressed his admiration. "Your Korean is quite fluent."
At that, Dong Sok-ro-jeop-mok-a grinned broadly. "When one comes to behold the King, how could one fail to speak his tongue? Besides, my wives and I cross the river to Hamgil Province often enough—we have picked up a fair share of Korean."
"I see."
Hong-wi received the chieftains without losing an ounce of his regal poise.
Before the king, the chieftains spoke of how their people lived and of the hardships they endured. Weathered and world-worn, they deftly wove their demands into ritualized praise of Joseon's fairness and justice.
Suyang listened to it all with great interest.