A Morning Run and the Fortress of the Five Women
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, doesn't it?"
Hong-wi said, "To raise an army, you need provisions and arms. I could be of help with that."
"Temusi'i, you're a merchant, aren't you? This is a venture that will yield no profit at all."
At Sonata's words, Hong-wi shook his head. "A merchant is still a man. And a man must know his debts of gratitude and repay them. It was thanks to Elder Onyan Isiha that I was able to stand in this place at all. And if a man is a man, he cannot simply stand by and do nothing after witnessing the slaughter at Sahalcha Ban Clan Village."
Sonata fell silent, studying Hong-wi with an expression in which countless emotions churned. In his eyes there was astonishment, reverence, and no small measure of pride.
Only then did Hong-wi smile awkwardly. "Even saying all that, I find myself embarrassed."
"Truly a hero! Today I understand all over again why the people of Sahalcha accepted you as one of their own, Temusi'i. I confess that for a moment I wondered why Jugang had brought a man from Joseon—and a merchant, no less—into our band. Kakduri and Tanduri ought to be thoroughly ashamed of themselves. From now on, if anyone dares call you a mere Joseon merchant, this Sonata will step in and set them straight."
Sonata said this with a calm, settled face, and Tung Jugang broke into a grin. "Well said, Sonata! Those two should have been here for this. Still, at heart they're all good men—by now they'll surely understand what kind of friend Temusi'i really is."
"Of course they will," Hong-wi agreed.
"Now then, back to what we were saying. What do you suppose we'll need to organize an army?"
"Well, weapons and armor and helmets, for a start. Not one of us Eight Strongmen even owns a suit of armor. Only this Tung Jugang here can get away with wearing the leather armor his father left him—the rest of us sorry stragglers have nothing of the sort."
Sonata guffawed, then added, "Real men don't need armor anyway."
"Be that as it may, no hero in a war can dodge every arrow that flies at him. Very well—I'll see what I can find. And good weapons too, wouldn't you say?"
Hong-wi called to mind the weapons Tung Jugang and his men carried. Arrowheads and spearpoints ground from bone and stone. How much would it help to put fine iron weapons in the hands of warriors like them? Even Lee Man-ju was driving himself half-mad trying to lay hands on iron arms.
"Temusi'i, can you really obtain such things? They'd have to come from Joseon or the Ming. It won't be easy," Tung Jugang said, doubt threaded through his voice.
Even for a merchant as shrewd as Hong-wi, acquiring weapons was a thorny business. No—not merely thorny. They would have to be smuggled out of Joseon or Ming territory, a trade that literally required staking one's life.
"I'll have to look into it. Leather armor I might manage somehow, but swords and spears are another matter. We'll need banners as well."
"I suppose so," Tung Jugang said, nodding. Then he burst out laughing. "But first we have to gather the men. The people of Anchuunbugu are a world away from fighting—thankfully, they're at least seasoned hunters."
Hong-wi nodded again. Hunting was, in effect, a form of military training. Moving armies in the thousands or tens of thousands would require systematic drill in formations, but for forces numbering in the tens, or a few hundred at most, the hunt was training enough.
"Still... if Lee Man-ju learns of this, he'll fly into a rage and call it a breach of our agreement."
"He would, wouldn't he..." Hong-wi conceded. Then Tung Jugang's voice brightened. "But that's exactly why we can stockpile weapons and armor against the day of need."
"Exactly!"
The group fell into high spirits, trading talk late into the gathering. Before long they were lost in plans for forging an invincible army like Genghis Khan of old, or Zhu Yuanzhang, the Ming founder. Those men, too, had started from nothing—so what was there they could not do?
Watching Tung Jugang, Sonata, and Heo Jo in full flight of enthusiasm, Hong-wi smiled. Then, unbidden, Jeong Ho-chan came to mind. It was he who had urged Hong-wi down this road: rally the outlaws, raise an army, and build the foundation to one day stand against his uncle. Could this be that beginning?
Still smiling, Hong-wi shook his head. Is it right to bend these men to my purpose, to drag them into my private cause?
He thought not. Were they not too fine, too noble, too proud and warm-hearted for that? He had no intention of cloaking exploitation in the name of friendship—not yet, at least. Wordlessly, he smiled and gazed at the men who had so recently become his friends.
Heo Jo caught that look and gave him a slow, understanding nod.
The day after their bout of revelry, Hong-wi rose early. From the next room came the deep rumble of snoring—Tung Jugang and his brothers were evidently still asleep. Hong-wi smiled to himself and stepped outside for some fresh air.
From somewhere, the sonorous drone of chanted prayer rolled across the morning. It seemed to come from the main hall where the Buddha statue was enshrined. Heo Jo. Without giving it much thought, Hong-wi made his way toward the hall, and as he walked, the chanting gradually died away.
By the time he reached the front courtyard, Heo Jo was just emerging from the hall. Recognizing Hong-wi, he laughed heartily. "Ah, you're up already! Early riser this morning, Master Temusi'i."
"No earlier than you, Master Heo Jo," Hong-wi answered, returning the smile.
"Well, I am a man of the cloth, such as I am, so I rise with the dawn. I've only just finished morning prayers."
"So that was it—I could hear your chanting from far off."
"Ha! Seems I woke you, then." Heo Jo scratched his shorn head, laughing. There was something so open and unpretentious about the sight that Hong-wi found himself liking the man all the more. "And what will you do now?"
"After morning prayers, this humble monk takes a light turn around the mountains nearby. A morning stroll, if you like—breathing the crisp dawn air does wonders for the health."
"Ah, I imagine it does indeed," Hong-wi agreed. All winter long, Cha Gyeong-yeon had used just such methods to forge his and Ho-in's basic endurance.
"Perhaps you'd care to join me?" Heo Jo offered, and Hong-wi accepted without hesitation. "Let's, then."
The two men set out beyond the temple walls. Heo Jo glanced back at him with a grin. "Right then—let's see you run!"
Before Hong-wi could answer, Heo Jo shot off like the wind. For all his massive bulk, his movements were remarkably quick—he ran like a bear.
So much for a 'morning stroll.' Stroll it was called, but Heo Jo's version was closer to a race. After a moment of standing dumbfounded, Hong-wi gave chase and refused to fall behind. He called out toward the broad back ahead of him, "Do you run like this every morning?"
"That I do," Heo Jo called back, and Hong-wi clicked his tongue. "Truly remarkable. Training like this every day—no wonder you're so strong."
"It's nothing. But you're no slouch yourself, keeping pace like that." Heo Jo glanced back over his shoulder with a smile, and Hong-wi grinned in return. "Not so remarkable, I assure you."
They clambered up the mountainside like squirrels. How long had they been running when they found themselves partway up the slope? Heo Jo halted, wiped the sweat from his brow, and turned to Hong-wi. "They say you're quite the archer too, Master Temusi'i."
"I hardly think so. Where did you hear that?"
"Word of your great hunt has spread far and wide through Anchuunbugu. At first I took it for mere rumor, but after seeing you yesterday, I know it for truth. Why, you spared two lives, did you not?"
"Two lives, you say?"
"One was mine, and the other was that chieftain who nearly killed you—and whom you chose not to slay. That makes two, does it not?"
"Ah. I suppose it does."
The two of them roared with laughter. When the laughter subsided, Hong-wi studied Heo Jo closely. "You know, Master Heo Jo, you don't strike me as a man meant to be shut away in a temple."
"Not quite fit for monkhood, am I?"
"Hardly."
Heo Jo grinned. Between his fearsome appearance, his skill in combat, and his love of meat and drink, he was unlike any monk one might meet. "Master Heo Jo—with strength like yours, whatever possessed you to take holy orders?"
"One's life before entering the Buddhist path is not a thing to be asked, is it not so?" Heo Jo deflected the question with a smile. "And you, Master—you look to me like a man raised in privilege in Joseon. Why then do you bear a Jurchen name, turn your back on your homeland, and bury yourself in the outlaws' land?"
"I have my own untellable story as well," Hong-wi said with a gentle smile, and the two laughed together once more.
Hong-wi spoke first. "Come to think of it, it seems every one of us carries an untellable story. Let's not pry into each other's pasts. Someday, perhaps, the day will come when we can lay them all bare."
"Agreed." Heo Jo wore a warm, easy smile. "...Still, Master Heo Jo—I hear you were born of this land. How is it you came to speak Korean so well?"
"It's true that I was born and raised here. But could only outlaws dwell in this land? Some of the Three Han people too crossed over and settled here during the Yuan era. And that's not all—go further back, and in ancient days the Sons of the Heavenly Grandson lived in this very land."
"The Sons of the Heavenly Grandson?" Hong-wi's eyes went wide. He had never heard the phrase before. "Ah, forgive me—it's the old Goguryeo tongue."
"I see." Hong-wi nodded, and Heo Jo eyed him sidelong. "You know of Goguryeo, then."
"I've studied some of the history of the Three Han. Goguryeo, Baekje, Silla."
"Yes. And what do they teach of it in Joseon?"
"That it was a mighty nation. Even the great empires of the Central Plains—Sui and Tang—attacked Goguryeo time and again and never prevailed. Joseon, they say, has united old Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla alike, and yet even its army could not match that Goguryeo."
"Ha! That is what they say. And well they might—it was a vast realm. This land here was once Goguryeo territory, and far to the north besides: the lands of Haeshi Guard and Moryeonwi all belonged to Goguryeo." A quiet pride ran beneath Heo Jo's words, and Hong-wi studied him carefully. "Then you, Master Heo Jo—could it be..."
"Just as you suspect. Trace my lineage back far enough, they say, and it reaches to the days of Goguryeo. Though that is all water under the bridge now." Heo Jo heaved a sigh, and for a while the two men stood in silence.
Perhaps meaning to lift the mood, Heo Jo spoke up brightly. "Since we've come to the subject—up there at the summit, you can look down over this whole region. I don't claim to know it all myself, but shall I show you a trace of old Goguryeo? It'll be a rare lesson."
"Gladly."
"Then let's hurry. Once the sun rises it will grow hot—better to climb quickly." No sooner had he spoken than Heo Jo shot up the steep incline like an arrow, far faster than before.
A wild boar or a tiger would be no match for him. Clicking his tongue, Hong-wi climbed after him, and by the time they reached the summit his undershirt was soaked through with sweat.
Heo Jo, already there and cooling down, called out laughing, "Come now, look around you! Drink deep of the spirit of our ancient forebears!"
Having caught his breath, Hong-wi did as Heo Jo urged and surveyed the surrounding scenery—and a small gasp escaped his lips. The broad northern plain unfolded before him, its rolling vista spread out at a glance. Ah. So it was in a land like this that our forebears once galloped. Hong-wi felt the pulse of every vein in his body thundering fiercely.
Heo Jo watched in silence, arms folded, as that stirred expression played across Hong-wi's face. A faint smile lingered at the corners of his mouth. "How does it feel?"
"As though every knot in my heart has come undone."
"I knew it would. First—do you see that mountain far off in the distance?" Heo Jo suddenly pointed, and Hong-wi's gaze followed his hand. There lay a basin ringed by sheer, plunging cliffs, its summit flat as a tabletop or a go board. "That is Onyeosanseong—the Fortress of the Five Women."
"Its setting is quite striking. But you call it a fortress?"
"Indeed. As you can see, it is a fortress by heaven's own design, and within there is even a pond—a great army could garrison there. That fortress is nothing less than sacred ground to us Goryeo people—ah, forgive me, we call ourselves Goryeo: those descended from old Goguryeo, and those who later came up from the Three Han's Goryeo, all together. It was there that King Dongmyeong, Chumo, first laid the foundations of his capital in Jolbon."
"Ah!" Hong-wi exclaimed in genuine awe. Told so, those remarkable cliffs took on a far deeper meaning before his eyes.
While Hong-wi cooled himself, Heo Jo told the old tale in a deep voice that rolled like thunder—the story of Hae Mosu, the god of heaven, and Lady Yuhwa, daughter of Habaek, lord of the river; of the great egg Lady Yuhwa bore; and of how Chumo was born within it...
Hong-wi was deeply moved by the legend of King Chumo as Heo Jo told it. The life of that man from a distant age somehow seemed to overlap with his own. Hong-wi turned his gaze far away, toward Onyeosanseong. Could I too, in Chumo's place, become the founder of a nation?