Etiquette, Taught With a Rice-Cake Mallet
Meanwhile, the ruffians, taking Heo Jo's silence for fear, seemed to think they had him cornered.
"If you'd figured out who we are, you'd be bringing out wine and rice cakes to entertain us right about now. Do that, and we might consider sparing you."
It had the flavor of a magnanimous gesture—generosity from a position of strength.
Just then, Heo Jo yawned.
"Oh, so that's who you are. Lee Man-ju's lackeys. Done running your mouth?"
"What?"
The leader's jaw dropped wide open.
The others stared at Heo Jo with expressions of sheer incredulity.
Presently, one of them raised an index finger to his temple and began slowly circling it, round and round.
The leader spoke. "The poor old fool's been living alone too long—his mind's gone!"
"Your minds are what's gone. You come to a temple that serves the Buddha looking for wine? We might have rice cakes, but wine? Not a chance. You lot wouldn't get so much as a single one."
Heo Jo spoke with unhurried ease as he gripped the handle of his tteok-me with both hands, hoisted it up, and slung it across the back of his neck.
"That said, this Heo Jo doesn't treat guests too shabbily. So allow me to give you a special taste of rice cake."
The words had barely left his mouth when Heo Jo swung the mallet from his neck as though it weighed no more than a bit of straw, whirling it round and round as he charged in without a shred of hesitation.
In an instant, screams filled the air.
"Aaagh!"
"Look at this madman!"
The ruffians shrieled as they scrambled to dodge the mallet sweeping wildly in every direction.
Some took a hit and crumpled; some tripped over their own feet. Before long, five or six of them lay sprawled across the courtyard, flattened by the tteok-me.
The leader, who had barely dodged the mallet, beat a hasty retreat while grumbling.
"The bald-headed devil's all brute strength!"
"You wretches picked the wrong fight today. If you'd simply begged for a meal because you were hungry, would I have refused you? But raising hell right in front of the Buddha himself? Oh, today I'm going to beat some sense into you."
Heo Jo wiped the sweat from his brow and laughed heartily.
Enraged, the leader turned to his men and shouted.
"No more niceties. Let's finish this mad monk for good."
He drew his blade.
The others each gripped their clubs and hunting spears afresh.
As the situation spiraled, Hong-wi and Ho-in tensed without realizing it.
"Aha. So now the Shura show their true colors."
Heo Jo smirked, and the leader bellowed.
"Get him!"
At his command, the pack came surging like a flood.
Heo Jo stood calmly at the fore, glowering at the man charging headlong at him—then twisted his upper body, just so.
The moment the tteok-me handle resting behind his neck swung around, the charging man took the mallet square in the chest and flew backward with a scream.
"Uwaaagh!"
Before the man's body even hit the ground, Heo Jo had already swung through another full arc.
The motion was so swift that another man had no time to react; he took the blow to the jaw and collapsed backward, while a third scrambled to retreat only to trip over the man who had fallen moments before.
They say misfortune breaks your nose even when you fall backward—and as luck would have it, this one's head struck the tteok-me directly. He crumpled with a groan.
Heo Jo, having spun through two full turns, was turning his body to square himself again when—
"Uwak!"
A scream burst out right behind him, and Heo Jo flinched for an instant.
He glanced back to see the leader—who had circled around behind him at some point and was about to bring his blade down—flailing instead, struggling to pull an arrow out of his shoulder.
Heo Jo's gaze shot to the gate of the Gate of Fire.
"……!"
Hong-wi lowered his bow and gave a short nod.
The corner of Heo Jo's mouth twitched, half-smiling, and he nodded back.
Only three of the ruffians were still standing now, and they were badly rattled.
Their leader had taken an arrow, and the rest lay moaning in the courtyard—or lay too senseless to moan at all.
They staggered backward, searching for a hole to flee through, but found none.
Heo Jo slammed the tteok-me down into the ground and barked.
"You dogs. Care to try your luck one more time?"
The leader bit his lip and stole a glance toward the gate.
Seeing Hong-wi's three companions blocking the escape route, he realized how the tide had turned.
"Ugh…"
The leader let out a thin groan and then shook his head.
Heo Jo roared with laughter and shouted again.
"You sorry fools! A dog with its tail between its legs is chased no further. Cross my eyes again and I'll whip you into shape for good. Now drag your fallen friends and get out of here—quickly!"
He should have been winded after such a frenzy of violence, yet there was not the slightest trace of breathlessness in Heo Jo's voice.
Having lost every ounce of their fighting spirit, the ruffians propped one another up and began retreating from the temple grounds, looking for all the world like the whipped dogs Heo Jo had called them.
The leader, clinging to the last shred of his pride, growled at Heo Jo.
"You think this settles it? Next time—"
"Oh, enough. Get moving. Still hungry for rice cake, are you?"
When Heo Jo glared, the leader shrank under that fierce gaze, dropped his eyes, and slunk away in silence.
Only then did Heo Jo wipe the beads of sweat from his brow and stride over to Hong-wi and Tung Jugang.
"Well now, Tung Jugang. How did you know to come along just when you did?"
he asked with a grin.
Despite his bandit-chieftain's bearing, his smile was utterly without guile.
"That was quite a show. Who in the world are these fellows? If they were local, they'd never have dared set foot in this temple—outsiders, then?"
"Greenhorns I'd never seen before, brazen enough to raise hell right before the Buddha. If they'd simply asked politely for a meal, I'd have hardly refused for the Buddha's sake—but kicking the doors in and carrying on like that? It boiled my blood. By the way, who might this gentleman be?"
Heo Jo turned to Hong-wi and bowed with easy grace.
"Thanks to you, elder, we were spared a nasty fate."
"It was nothing. You flatter me—you were the impressive one."
"Impressive, hardly. All I know is bullying the strong into leaving the weak alone. They were nothing much."
Heo Jo laughed heartily and carried on with unforced charm.
"But still… who are you, truly? I know Tung Jugang here and his companions well enough, but you I'm meeting for the first time. My name is Heo Jo."
"I am called Temusi-i. This is Jeon Ho-in."
"Temusi-i!"
Heo Jo gazed at Hong-wi with eyes lost in some thought.
Hong-wi felt a strange stir and asked.
"You know of me?"
"Of course. You've come from Joseon, haven't you?"
Astonishingly, Heo Jo had answered in Korean.
Ho-in's mouth fell wide open in shock, and Hong-wi's eyebrows shot up.
"You speak Korean… and fluently, at that."
"Well, I picked some up along the way. You'll hear that story soon enough, once you're inside. Three precious guests all at once—well, well. Hey, Tung Jugang! So the guests number three?"
"No. Three more."
"What? Three more?"
Heo Jo laughed as though he couldn't believe it.
"Planning to strip the temple's pantry bare, are you?"
"Don't worry about that. We brought a whole roast wild boar. Our friend Ho-in here cooked it Joseon-style. He calls it samgutgui."
"Ha! Generous benefactors indeed! Do you have any grain tea?"
"Have we ever. Airag, and these gentlemen even brought Joseon cheongju."
"Ah, now that's fine! Even the Buddha would smile on that. Heh heh heh…"
Heo Jo boomed with laughter once more.
"By the way, where is everyone?"
"Hmm, they were on the path down—the route those fellows took…"
At Tung Jugang's words, a sudden worry seized Hong-wi.
Were his companions down there safe?
If those ruffians who'd just been chased off spotted them, it would be a disaster.
Just then, as though the words had summoned them, the jingle of harness rang out, and Tung Ju-dong and the siblings Maruchi and Arachi led the horses over the gate.
"Elder Heo Jo, sir, we're back."
"Well, look at that—when did you learn to greet people properly! Your manners have come a long way."
"What manners have grown, you old fireball? We only grovel because Elder Heo Jo beats us black and blue."
Arachi stuck out her tongue and muttered at Heo Jo's remark.
Heo Jo let out a rollicking laugh.
"And that's how manners grow. I was an unruly young whelp myself, once… But no trouble down below?"
"None worth the name—unless you count a pack of beggar-rats running off with their tails between their legs. We had our hands full stopping Ju-dong here from chasing them down. What in the world happened up here?"
Maruchi said.
"Those beggars were raising a ruckus, so I persuaded them to leave."
"Haah. Persuaded them, you say?"
The Maruchi siblings exchanged skeptical looks.
"Indeed. I taught them their manners with this tteok-me here."
Tung Jugang grinned and told them the whole story of Heo Jo's one-man brawl.
Maruchi whistled in admiration.
"Wow, Elder Heo Jo takes the crown! I should've jumped into that fight myself."
"Ugh, there you go again, showing off… If it's Elder Heo Jo, forget ten men—he'd flatten twenty, thirty, no sweat. He's got the hide for it."
Arachi's gibe drew a sullen grumble from Maruchi.
"Why do you always do this to me?"
Maruchi turned to Heo Jo and complained.
"Master, would you kindly explain to this brat whether a younger sibling's supposed to talk to her elder like that?"
"And why are you leaving that to me?"
Heo Jo roared with laughter.
Meanwhile Ju-dong, who had said nothing, rubbed his belly and spoke up.
"I'm starving. Couldn't there be something to eat?"
"Aiyo, look at him—no shame at all, just charging ahead,"
Arachi clicked her tongue.
Heo Jo laughed heartily.
"Guests who've come far and hungry must be fed. And we've received a generous offering besides… Let's head in, everyone."
He slung the tteok-me back over his shoulder, where it had been left in the courtyard, and trudged off toward the back of the temple.
Hong-wi's party followed.
It's bigger than I expected.
Hong-wi was quietly surprised by the temple's scale.
Though Buddhism had fallen out of favor, even in Joseon a temple of this size would have been a rare sight.
A temple that must once have been grand now stood old and dilapidated.
Heo Jo guided them to the monks' quarters, where monks had once lived and studied the scriptures. The tiled roof had been rethatched with straw, and it was the best-kept building on the grounds.
"We must have the evening offering."
"We've arrived unannounced, without even sending word ahead—I'm embarrassed."
"Haha, don't fret. The meal's already been prepared."
"How could you have known we were coming?"
"When I woke this morning with nothing to do, I cast a divination, and it said several precious guests would arrive. I was just preparing for it when—instead of precious guests, a pack of riffraff comes crashing in, and I thought, ah, my cultivation must be lacking, and I despaired. Happily, my divination didn't fail me after all."
"Hahaha."
"Still, we'll need to cook more rice. Ju-dong here eats for two."
"I could eat for three. My stomach's skin's about to stick to my back."
At Ju-dong's words, everyone laughed.
"Then we have a problem on our hands! May tonight's offering be far from sparse! It's humble quarters, but rest your weary bones here a while."
"We'll help."
When Tung Jugang and Hong-wi rose, Arachi scrambled up after them.
"I'll help too!"
Maruchi rose as well.
Seeing that, Ju-dong couldn't very well sit still and got up too.
Heo Jo laughed heartily.
"I'm grateful to have so many willing hands."
They decided to unload the baggage first.
As they hauled the pack-saddles off the horses' backs, Heo Jo flared his nostrils.
"Oho, that smell is mighty sweet! Is that airag?"
"It is."
"Airag's fine! But since we're at a temple, mare's milk is well and good, but grain tea would be better still. And you say there's cheongju too? Oho… Lord Temusi-i, may the Buddha's merit be boundless upon you! As it happens, a batch of grain tea I brewed a while back should be ripe just about now."
Heo Jo grinned.
"Fine liquor like this deserves better than weed-side dishes—but roast pork? What a magnificent offering."
"Hey now, as if Elder Heo Jo has ever contented himself with wild greens,"
Sonata cut in, then struck up a song on the spot.
"When a monk lives alone in a mountain temple, he plays the great master, Beating his wooden fish and chanting sutras—it almost looks the part, But then whose are the wine bowls and the meat plates on the table?"
Everyone burst out laughing at Sonata's song.
"I surrender, hands and feet both. To kill a living creature for meat is a sin even in the Buddhist path—but to accept the flesh of an already-dead animal as alms and take it as medicine for the body? Even the Buddha is gracious enough to overlook that much."
"Oho, they do say there's no grave without an excuse!"
When Sonata needled him, Heo Jo chuckled.
"Come now, enough of that. Let this monk partake of his offering—get it down quickly. Oho, and is this the handiwork of our friend from earlier? It's magnificent, absolutely magnificent!"
Heo Jo marveled at the sight of the samgutgui.
With so many helping hands, the meal came together in no time.
The quiet mountain temple bustled for the first time in ages.
Everyone gathered around the table, and Heo Jo, after a theatrical cough, looked around at the company.
"Tonight's evening offering is a truly worthy one! You've all come far and suffered for it. Before we take up the table, allow me to recite a short gatha."
Heo Jo closed his eyes and, in a rolling, resonant voice, chanted the Five Contemplations gatha in the old Jurchen tongue.
"Whence came this food we eat? / My virtue is too meager to receive it. Casting off every craving of the mind, / I take it as medicine to sustain this body, That I may attain awakening—thus I accept this offering."
The company stared at Heo Jo in astonishment.
They realized anew that, whatever else he was, a monk was still a monk.
Sonata broke the silence.
"Incredible. He looks the part of a bandit, but he's the real thing after all!"
"It's the standard gatha every monk recites before eating, is all."
Heo Jo smiled slyly.
"When I first saw you, I thought you were some bandit squatting in an abandoned temple playing at being a monk."
"Oi, I studied under my master in my own way. I did the monk's work for years."
"So—can we eat now or what? I'm starving to death."
With bellies growling and the conversation showing no sign of ending, Ju-dong finally lost his temper and shouted.
Everyone roared with laughter.
Heo Jo said cheerfully.
"Our young acolyte's stomach is eating itself—look at me, dawdling. My apologies. Eat up now."
At that, Ju-dong grabbed the food with both hands without another word and began stuffing it into his mouth.
Maruchi, unwilling to be outdone, tore off strips of pork and devoured them hand over fist.
Arachi shot them both a sidelong glare and picked up her spoon.
Heo Jo turned to Hong-wi's party and continued.
"This is a temple in name, at least—so let me serve you the grain tea first."
With that, Heo Jo began pouring cheongju into the cups.
"Grain tea is good for the body, you know."
Ho-in couldn't hold back and spoke up.
"Excuse me, Master…"
"Just call me Heo Jo. What is it?"
"I was wondering—is it truly permissible for a monk to drink like this?"
"And why, pray tell, would this be wine?"
Heo Jo grinned and feigned innocence.
Ho-in was left utterly speechless.
"It's brewed from rice into a fine tea—nothing better for forgetting the world's cares. Even the Buddha, when he was starving, heard the children's song and understood: string an instrument too tight and it snaps; leave it too slack and it makes no sound."
Heo Jo laughed heartily once more.
Ho-in, having no reply, closed his mouth and accepted the cup.
"Now then, the tea's aroma is truly fragrant tonight—down it goes, all in one draught."
"With pleasure."
The company drained their cups in one motion.
Their bellies warmed with a pleasant glow.
Tung Jugang spoke.
"Now that the grain tea has rinsed our throats, shall we try the mare's milk brew as well?"
"Ah, excellent."
Heo Jo grinned and held out his cup.
They urged one another to drink, washing down each piece of meat with a cup of wine, eating and drinking with abandon.
No one savored the wine and meat more heartily than Heo Jo himself.
After several rounds, faces had flushed a rosy pink.
Airag was mild enough to drink like an everyday beverage, but the cheongju carried a considerable kick.
Before long, Ju-dong, Maruchi, and Arachi had all passed out into sleep.
Ho-in was half-dozing as well.
Hong-wi, well into his cups now, addressed Heo Jo.
"About those men from earlier…"