A Contest of Bows
Tung Jugang raised a hand to his lips and let out a whistle. The sharp sound was enough to startle anyone. At the call, two figures appeared almost instantly.
"Tasbuka, Tashari."
"Big Brother! You've come!"
The hulking giant of a man bellowed in a rough, gravelly voice. The one beside him was somewhat leaner, but he too had the same thick-boned, sturdy frame, and his voice was pitched higher.
"I've brought a guest. A friend of mine called Temusi'i."
Tung Jugang turned to Hong-wi and explained.
"That sturdy fellow over there is Tasbuka. He doesn't talk much, but he's as solid as a boulder. The one next to him is Dartai, though we all call him Tashari — it means 'gyrfalcon.' He likes the name himself, I suppose because it pairs so well with his friend Tasbuka's. He knows more about horses than anyone among us, so if your mount ever picks up a problem, he's the one who'll see to it. Both of these friends are of Mongol stock."
"Pleased to meet you. They call me Temusi'i."
Tasbuka gave a silent nod. His whole bearing brought a bull to mind — a fitting image, for the name meant exactly that in Mongol. Tashari, too, lived up to his falcon sobriquet, carrying himself with a lean, predatory grace.
"Was the road uneventful?"
Tashari asked, vaulting neatly over the fence.
"Thankfully, no fight broke out. Seems they'd only come to scout us out."
"Them?"
Hong-wi asked, and Tung Jugang nodded.
"Suspicious characters have been sniffing around this area of late. They aren't banditry like before, but if anything that's more unsettling — they've the look of men asking questions about something. Perhaps……"
"Keshine told me on the way here. Said he'd heard some man named Kunuma howling for vengeance over his dead brother?"
"Ah…… so you've heard already."
Tung Jugang knitted his brows. After a moment, he gave a slow nod.
"Aye, that'll be the one. He's a snake of a man — doesn't come out himself — but it's obvious enough. His brother is dead, so he means to avenge him."
"What sort of man is this Kunuma?"
"A cruel one. I've crossed blades with him once before."
Tung Jugang bit his lip before going on.
"He butchered kin of mine — distant relations, but my own blood. I hunted him down and meant to settle it once and for all."
"Did you? And yet you didn't kill him."
"No. Looking back now, I should have finished it then and saved myself the trouble. I only cost him an eye and let him go. He's carried a grudge against me ever since, though he's never dared come at me directly. It wouldn't surprise me if he decides I'm the one who killed his brother Bushuku this time."
"Then I've caused you needless trouble."
"No, no! Truth be told, Bushuku was a pitiful creature in his own way. It must have been Kunuma who drove him into wickedness all along…… trusting in his brother's name, he tried to snatch a quick profit by raiding some ragtag caravan, and had the ill luck to run into you."
Hong-wi gave a wry smile.
"In any case, word has it Kunuma has been receiving backing from that Kunaha of late. The rumors say so, at least."
"Kunaha?"
Hong-wi furrowed his brow.
"Aye, that Kunaha. In exchange for tribute, he gathers every villain under the sun and shields them — and Kunuma is one of them, the most notorious of the lot. His followers number nearly eighty, and every last one of them is beyond redemption. They call themselves the Guisalyacha."
Tung Jugang shook his head.
"The name fits what they do. No — if anything it flatters them. They kill and plunder as the whim takes them; the only thing they don't do is rape."
"Is that so?"
"Aye, and not out of any conscience. They kill every man, woman, and child they set eyes on — and not cleanly, either. They hack them to pieces."
"Vile wretches! And such men roam the land freely?"
Hong-wi's voice rose with indignation.
"Because Lee Man-ju stands behind them."
Tung Jugang smiled bitterly.
"All they plunder, they offer up to Lee Man-ju — or rather, to his son Kunaha — and with the Jianzhou Guard at their backs, no one dares say a word."
"Is there truly no one who can stand against them?"
"Grand Elder means to denounce their outrages at the Izara, but those who actually suffer at their hands won't step forward. They fear what comes after."
"Hmm."
Hong-wi nodded silently. Tung Jugang, as if to lift the mood, forced brightness into his voice.
"Well, this talk has grown far too heavy. Today is a day for rejoicing — why not enjoy ourselves a little? Come, let's try our hands at archery and shake off these gloomy thoughts."
"A fine idea."
Tung Jugang summoned his sworn brothers of the Eight Stalwarts, and Hong-wi studied each of them in turn. There was Tung Jugang himself, then Keshine the second-in-command, then Sonata the Khitan, the left-handed Hasutai, the Mongols Tasbuka and Tashari, and the twins Kakduri and Tanduri. The mischievous Kakduri waved at Hong-wi, and Hong-wi waved back. Between them, there was no lingering awkwardness now.
"We have a new guest today, so let us welcome him properly."
Tung Jugang addressed the brothers of the Eight Stalwarts. They nodded, each regarding Hong-wi with a thoughtful eye.
"Since it's his first visit, by our custom we'll hold an archery contest."
"Agreed."
The Eight Stalwarts assented, and Tung Jugang turned to Hong-wi.
"Come along. You can leave your horses here — it's close by."
They walked along through the woods, where autumn foliage glowed brilliantly under the pouring sunlight. Hong-wi marveled at the scenery.
"To live in a place this beautiful — I confess I'm envious."
"That's the Grand Elder's kindness."
Tung Jugang replied, pointing to a clearing spread out among the trees in the distance.
"There it is. That's where we practice our archery. On horseback, too."
"I see."
Hong-wi watched Tung Jugang's men handle their bows with careful attention. The bows they used were considerably larger and thicker than Joseon bows, giving them a rough, rustic look. They set their targets perhaps eighty paces off and began loosing arrows.
Sonata spoke up.
"Shall we let them shoot first?"
"Do that!"
Hong-wi and Ho-in watched the men shoot with genuine interest. Their skill was not bad at all. The level was roughly even among them; of the fifty arrows each man loosed, perhaps ten went astray on average. The worst shot was Judongi, who had already grown bored and was tossing his bow aside.
Ho-in shrugged.
Not bad. serviceable, at least.
It wasn't mere pride that made Ho-in look down on them — far from it. Anyone in Joseon who claimed to shoot a bow could manage that much easily, and Ho-in was confident of doing the same.
Hong-wi asked him.
"Will you try a round yourself?"
"Gladly."
Ho-in stepped forward. He took up a bow, nocked a single arrow, raised it toward the sky, drew the string back slowly, and loosed at the target. The arrow struck true.
"Excellent! Another — keep going!"
Tung Jugang exclaimed, and Ho-in shot on, arrow after arrow, while the crowd looked on. When fifty arrows had struck the mark in succession, murmurs of admiration rippled through the onlookers. It was only at the fifty-third that Ho-in's arrow finally missed its aim — and even then only by about three inches.
When Ho-in lowered his bow, Hong-wi offered encouragement.
"Well done."
"A bit of a shame, though."
Ho-in grumbled, and Tung Jugang shook his head.
"That's more than enough to rank among the master archers."
The bows the Jurchens used were mostly of wood, and their thickness made them wonderfully durable — at the cost of some range and accuracy. But archery was so woven into their daily lives that the skill of the archers more than made up for it.
Hong-wi asked,
"Among your company, who shoots best?"
"Why, that would be Lord Hasutai, of course."
Maruchi piped up, and Tung Jugang nodded.
"He's right. Didn't I tell you before? None among us can match Hasutai with a bow. He's above even me."
"How could anyone presume to follow in Big Brother's footsteps?"
Hasutai demurred with modest words — yet beneath them ran an unmistakable, unhidden pride. He turned to Hong-wi.
"I hear the people of Joseon shoot remarkably well. And word of your feats on the last hunt has reached my ears as well, Lord Temusi'i, though I wasn't there to see it myself."
"So I've heard said — though that day it was spears more than bows."
Hasutai grinned.
"If it's no trouble, might I learn a thing or two from your hand?"
He spoke of learning, but he meant a contest. Hong-wi smiled readily.
"My skill is hardly so great as all that."
"Long or short a rope may be, you'll never know until you measure it against another."
"Come now, let's see this skill of his!"
Cries of assent rose from all around. There was no refusing now — and in truth, Hong-wi had no wish to.
"Then I'll show you a round."
Hong-wi drew out his own bow. It was a horn bow of deer antler and ox horn, beautifully maintained. Hasutai studied it closely and nodded.
"A fine bow. Well kept, too."
As an accomplished archer himself, Hasutai could judge a man's skill from the state of his weapon, and he sensed at once that Hong-wi was no ordinary hand. Hong-wi then drew out his arrows — willow-leaf arrows, their iron heads shaped like willow leaves. Hasutai eyed them with open envy, and the others looked on no less covetously. Small wonder: their own arrowheads were mostly ground from bone, and some were even chipped from stone.
"I'll shoot first, then."
"By all means."
Hasutai calmly took aim and loosed. The arrow flew true and buried itself dead center in the target.
"Whoa!"
Maruchi shouted, clenching his fist. Hasutai calmly aimed the next. Thud, thud — arrow after arrow struck the bull's-eye in succession. Even after loosing five full rounds of twenty-five arrows in a chain volley, not a hair's breadth of tremor touched his aim. Thirty. Forty. By now the others had stopped shooting entirely and stood watching Hasutai alone.
Fifty. Sixty. Seventy. At nearly the seventy-third arrow —
"Ahh!"
Maruchi wailed in dismay. Whether his hand had trembled faintly or a gust had risen, Hasutai's arrow struck slightly off-center as it clipped the target's edge. The arrow already planted in the target gave a small shudder.
"Magnificent."
"You flatter me…… Now then, shall we see your skill, my lord?"
Hasutai wiped the sweat from his brow. Hong-wi took up his horn bow. Even in his palace days he had practiced archery now and then as discipline of body and mind, and since coming north he had trained all the more diligently. He nocked an arrow, drew the string, and took aim. The instant the arrow sprang free, Hong-wi flipped the bow with a snap.
"Gwanjung!"
Hong-wi called out, and the arrow struck precisely at the center of the target. Hasutai gave a slight nod; Tung Jugang stood with arms crossed, smiling in silence.
Hong-wi nocked the next. Arrow after arrow struck the mark. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Past sixty, the crowd began to stir and murmur.
"He's no slouch, is he……"
Hong-wi shot on without pause, reaching seventy-two. The onlookers clenched their fists, hearts in their throats. Would he break the record Hasutai had just set?
Hong-wi took aim, steady as stone. Ping — the arrow cleaved the air.
"Ahh!"
Groans rose from every side — but Hasutai, arms folded, said nothing. For the arrow had struck true once again. Paying no mind to the reaction around him, Hong-wi silently drew the next arrow.
"Incredible……"
people whispered. His willow-leaf arrows long since exhausted, Hong-wi had taken the ordinary Jurchen arrows handed to him, yet it made no difference at all — and those were inferior arrows, no less. Even Ho-in could not contain his astonishment. Before anyone realized it, the count of arrows struck had passed a hundred with room to spare.
"Splendid. Truly splendid."
Tung Jugang clapped his hands. When Hong-wi lowered his bow, Tung Jugang turned to the company and cried out,
"Isn't that more than magnificent enough?"
"It is."
The people nodded. Never had they seen an archer strike the mark a hundred times in succession.
Tung Jugang grinned and glanced around.
"Your throats must be dry by now. Ah — there's a pear tree over there."
The company turned to look, and indeed a single pear tree stood in the distance. Someone had evidently picked it nearly clean; only a few pears remained, high up beyond the reach of any hand.
"Someone go fetch them, and let these two friends have a taste."
"I'll climb up and get them."
Maruchi stepped forward — but Hong-wi spoke with a smile.
"No need to trouble yourself climbing up there."
Even as he spoke, Hong-wi nocked a single arrow. Hasutai's eyebrows twitched. Maruchi cried out,
"Aw, that's two hundred paces off — how could you possi……"
His last words faded into a mumble. Two hundred paces was roughly two hundred and forty meters — nearly double the one hundred twenty paces at which Joseon military examiners usually set their tests, and far beyond the effective range of the wooden bows the Jurchens commonly used. The onlookers each swallowed hard.
Knocking a pear down from this distance is impossible……
They fell silent. Impossible it surely was — and yet somehow, from this man, this Temusi'i, they half believed it could be done.
Hong-wi took aim without a word, and after a long moment, loosed. Once again the arrow traced a magnificent arc, the black arrowhead flashing in the sunlight. It struck the stem of a pear hanging on its branch precisely, and with a soft thump the pear dropped to the ground.
"Waaaah!"
The crowd erupted in a single cheer. Ho-in, too, clenched his fist. What else could one expect from the descendant of Yi Seong-gye, once hailed as a divine archer?
Hong-wi nocked another arrow and shot once more. Again the arrow struck the stem true, and a second pear fell. He grinned.
"Just my lucky day. Now — go fetch them."
Maruchi shot off like the wind, scooped up the fallen pears, wiped them briskly against his robe, and sped back to hand one each to Hong-wi and Hasutai.
"Eat,"
Hong-wi said. A strange expression flickered across Hasutai's face — awe, astonishment, and reverence all tangled together. Then, the next moment, he bowed at the waist.
"Truly, magnificent. They say the people of Joseon cannot be matched at the bow — no idle boast after all!"
Hasutai conceded cleanly.
"You were splendid yourself. With a better bow, who knows how it might have ended."
"No, my lord. A carpenter without skill blames his tools, as they say. Before talking of bows, your skill is above mine. I ought to be calling you elder brother."
Hasutai spoke with grave courtesy, and the astonishment around them was considerable.
"Lord Hasutai……?"
Maruchi's mouth hung open.
"You go too far."
Hong-wi shook his head.
"Shooting from standing still is nothing remarkable. From what I hear, when it comes to shooting from horseback, no one among your people has an equal. One of these days, I must learn from you."
"Heheh — a man of your caliber will hardly fall off a horse, I daresay."
They bit into their pears and grinned at one another. Tung Jugang and Keshine watched the two of them with warm, satisfied smiles.
"Well now — what's all this commotion?"
Everyone turned to look. A girl was hurrying toward them, hugging a woven basket, her steps rustling through the dry grass.