The Lone Pine of Cheongnyeongpo

"If it pleases Your Highness, this unworthy servant would like to divine your fortune—whether there might be a way to ward off the misfortune that looms before you."

"Hah. Every day you sound less and less like a scholar. Physiognomy is one thing, but how does a refined gentleman come to dabble in fortune-telling?"

"Your great-grandfather, King Taejong himself, sought dream interpretations from the monk Muhak and laid the foundation of his great enterprise upon them."

"A man's fortune rests with Heaven, I'm told—so I doubt casting a divination would change anything."

Hong-wi regarded Jeong Ho-chan with clear, calm, settled eyes.

"But out of respect for your sincerity, I will allow it. Just once."

"I am deeply honored, Your Highness."

Hong-wi gave him the details as asked—his hour of birth and the rest. When Jeong Ho-chan had heard everything, he closed his eyes and murmured something under his breath, again and again.

After who knew how long, Jeong Ho-chan slowly opened his eyes.

"As I see it... forgive me for saying so, Your Highness, but the coming Gichuk year bodes even greater calamity for you than this Byeongja year does."

It came as no great surprise. Not a flicker of change crossed Hong-wi's face.

"You are not startled."

"As I said—a man's fortune does not rest with Heaven."

"Just so. And yet, if it could be changed, would that not be a fine thing?"

"Is that even possible?"

"If you can merely weather the calamities of this year and the next, then from that point on your path will gradually open, and fortune will come flooding in. There will be rises and falls after that as well, but this moment—this is the hour when the deer has stepped into the tiger's mouth. No crisis like this one will come again."

Hong-wi gave a bitter smile.

"Then is there a way to escape this crisis that stands before me?"

He asked without any real expectation. But Jeong Ho-chan's answer caught him entirely off guard.

"Of course there is."

Even as he said it, Jeong Ho-chan stole a glance toward Eo Deuk-hae, then drew a small pouch from inside his robe and pressed it into Hong-wi's hands.

Hong-wi took it without thinking, eyeing Jeong Ho-chan with a puzzled frown.

"And this is?"

"If ever you find yourself with no choice but to take matters into your own hands, tear it open. It will most surely be of help."

"Pulling it straight from your breast like that—you had this prepared in advance, didn't you?"

Jeong Ho-chan ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠smiled wryly.

"They say a fortune-teller cannot read his own future—but sometimes, what is needed, he can see beforehand. Ah—wait a moment, if you please."

He stopped Hong-wi just as he was moving to untie the bundle.

"If you open it before the time comes, it will do you no good whatsoever. Keep it tucked away."

"Do not open it before its time? And when might that time be?"

"When the time comes, you will know it naturally. Know only this, Your Highness: the hour of greatest peril. That is the moment."

Hong-wi stared at him blankly for a moment, then slipped the pouch into his breast.

Just then, Eo Deuk-hae shouted.

"Finished? If you're finished, then be on your way!"

"The wolf approaches."

Hong-wi murmured with a wry twist of his lips.

"A wolf, yes—but even wolves, on occasion, have the semblance of a man's conscience."

"Conscience or not, a beast is still a beast."

Hong-wi replied, his eyes on Han Ga-ryeong.

"I am leaving Hanyang, cast far away into exile—but I remain within my uncle's grasp."

"For now."

Jeong Ho-chan said. Hong-wi stared at him blankly for a long moment, then at last nodded.

"Regardless—my thanks. I cannot truly say whether we shall ever meet again... but yes. Your name was Jeong Ho-chan, was it not?"

"That this unworthy one is remembered by Your Highness is a great honor. If fate allows, we shall meet again."

"I suppose."

Hong-wi smiled faintly, without much faith in his own words. On the road ahead, death was a very real possibility—and in Yeongwol, a prison of mountains and rivers, who could say what misfortune might find him?

Jeong Ho-chan smiled warmly and bowed.

"Your Highness—we will most certainly meet again."

The guards pushed Jeong Ho-chan and his party along. The sun was slipping bit by bit toward the western sky, and the heat of midday had begun to ebb.

Hong-wi slid open the palanquin's window and looked back. Jeong Ho-chan's figure vanished, sudden and silent, into the light of the afternoon sun.

Hong-wi's party arrived in Yeongwol around the time the first sliver of the seventh-month moon rose. When the palanquin stopped, Hong-wi leaned out to look around.

"Where is this?"

"We've arrived. This is your destination—Cheongnyeongpo. Come, step down."

Hong-wi alighted from the palanquin.

Cheongnyeongpo was a tiny mountain village on the western edge of Yeongwu County, where a river called the Jucheon bent and curled around it on three sides. The one approach not blocked by water was a stretch of steep, rugged terrain, thickly tangled with trees, difficult to pass through at the best of times.

A truly fitting place to lock away a man no one anywhere wishes to receive.

Hong-wi thought bitterly. When he turned, he saw a single shabby thatched cottage amid the overgrown brush, its fences laced with kudzu vines. It could not be compared to a palace—it was, if anything, sadder to look upon than any common farmer's house.

Several men in official dress were loitering at the cottage's side gate.

"Who goes there?"

"Men sent by the Magistrate of Yeongwol."

The man in official dress bowed his head low and answered.

"This humble one is called Gongsaeng. His Honor the Magistrate has commanded me to attend upon His Lordship Prince Nosan."

Behind the man who called himself Gongsaeng stood some twenty guards and a dozen or more government slaves. Hong-wi swept his gaze over all of them, then spoke to Gongsaeng.

"Very well. I should like to see the Magistrate."

At that, Gongsaeng could not hide his embarrassment.

"I beg your pardon, but His Honor is burdened with official duties, and asks that he be permitted to call upon you at a later time."

"At a later time. I see."

The lie was transparent. No matter how busy a county magistrate might be, would he sit idle if a Chief State Councillor came to call? For the Magistrate of Yeongwol, Hong-wi was a man awkward to treat well and equally awkward to slight—it was self-evident that he wished above all not to lay eyes on him.

But what can be done about it?

While this exchange took place, Eo Deuk-hae and his men, having completed the handover, offered Hong-wi only a half-hearted parting bow and set off at once for Hanyang.

Gongsaeng spoke up.

"The house has been cleaned and made ready. Please go inside."

"I will."

Hong-wi went in. Thus began his exile at Cheongnyeongpo.

Several days passed after Hong-wi's arrival at Cheongnyeongpo. During all that time, the Magistrate of Yeongwol never once showed his face. Each day he merely sent the garrison commander, the battalion captain, and the like to spy on Hong-wi's movements. In the end, the only person attending Hong-wi at all was Gongsaeng—and he, though diligent enough, was a simple-minded sort of man. A few conversations had made that plain enough. But even such a man deserved gratitude now.

Han Ga-ryeong was present, of course, but he was no servant to wait upon a deposed king's daily needs.

Then, after several lonely days, unexpected visitors arrived: two eunuchs and six court ladies who had attended Hong-wi in Suganggung.

"What is this? How have you come a thousand ri to a place like this?"

"We came to serve Your Highness, from Suganggung."

One of the older eunuchs bowed deeply at the waist. He still had not abandoned the title jeonha—Your Highness.

Hong-wi was startled by the unexpected visitors, and glad of them too. The eunuch looked around the house and let out a sigh.

"Such a shabby dwelling."

His voice was half-choked. Hong-wi's own eyes reddened at the rims.

"Thank you. For my sake you have come all this long way—truly commendable."

"We are unworthy, Your Highness."

Thanks to them, Hong-wi's household improved considerably. The people who had followed him from Hanyang served him with utter devotion. In truth, they had been captivated by his character ever since the days of Suganggung.

There was an old saying: to know a man's true nature, watch him when he is given power, and watch him when he is brought low. And Hong-wi—whether in the palace or now, in exile—was unfailingly benevolent, never once unraveled. High-born or lowly, he treated every soul with the same earnest care.

"Truly a benevolent soul. He is barely sixteen—how can anyone be like that?"

So the people of the Yeongwol magistrate's office would whisper among themselves. Before long, they had forgotten he was a criminal under watch, and found themselves hoping only to make things easier for him.

Gongsaeng, too, seemed to have grown sincerely devoted to Hong-wi before he knew it. Only the presence of Han Ga-ryeong—sent down from Hanyang to watch him—nagged at Hong-wi's mind.

Yet strangely, Han Ga-ryeong did not appear to care in the slightest how the villagers treated Hong-wi. If anything, he helped quietly, in small unseen ways. When Gongsaeng looked to be building a mosquito fire to keep the insects from Hong-wi's chamber, Han Ga-ryeong would produce a bundle of mugwort from somewhere. When the court ladies gathered wild greens to offer Hong-wi, he would hand over pheasants and game birds he had hunted from who knew where.

Why is that man behaving so kindly?

Hong-wi was grateful for the thoughtfulness, yet at the same time it gnawed at him, because he could not fathom the man's true intent. One day he called Han Ga-ryeong over and asked him directly.

"Why do you show me such care? The master you serve is another man entirely..." Hong-wi swallowed the last of that sentence.

Han Ga-ryeong bowed his head slightly.

"The order I received was to aid Your Lordship's circumstances. That is all."

"Is that so."

Hong-wi did not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠press further. He could not believe, not even by a fingernail's width, that Han Myeong-hoe would issue such an order. Still, it was true that Han Ga-ryeong showed no particular design... so far.

Once Han Ga-ryeong withdrew, Hong-wi summoned Gongsaeng and the eunuch.

"I wish to catch some fresh air."

"Shall I attend you?"

Hong-wi shook his head.

"No. I want to walk alone and look about. Is that so difficult?"

Gongsaeng and the eunuch exchanged glances. After a moment, Gongsaeng shrugged.

"The guards keep the perimeter of this place. So long as Your Lordship does not cross their cordon, I daresay it is permitted."

"Worry not. Where would I even go?"

Hong-wi smiled a lonely smile. With no boat, he could not cross the Jucheon; not knowing the paths, he could not slip past the guards and over the mountains.

Gongsaeng spoke again.

"I will escort you as far as the edge of the village."

Hong-wi set out with Gongsaeng leading the way to the outskirts of Cheongnyeongpo. The guards came near, but when Gongsaeng said something to them, they withdrew. When they reached the banks of the Jucheon, Gongsaeng spoke again.

"Then I shall take my leave."

"Thank you."

Hong-wi began to stroll along the river. Walking wherever his feet carried him, he came upon a pine tree atop a low rise, easily decades old. Its trunk split into two great boughs and stretched skyward in a bold, sweeping flourish. Hong-wi perched himself on the tree and looked around: thick pine groves, a high peak towering in the west, a deep, dark stream flowing languidly past, and overhead, a sky heavy with dreary cloud. It drew a sigh from him unbidden.

So this is where I will spend the rest of my days...

Hong-wi composed a verse, murmuring it softly.

Having finished the recitation, Hong-wi's heart sank deeper into gloom. He gazed blankly at the scenery around him, but nothing truly registered.

As he sat steeped in sorrow, two figures appeared in the distance, walking down along the Jucheon. One was an elderly man; the other a young fellow who looked not yet twenty. Judging by their dress they might have been country gentry out for the cool air—but their sharp eyes never stopped sweeping their surroundings.

"Ho-in. Let us prepare to cook rice here."

"Yes, Father."

The young man called Ho-in nodded and set down the bundle. The old man glanced over the rise, then lowered his voice.

As you prepare... keep watch for any spies about. Understood?"

"Have no fear."

The old man settled into a patch of shade and affected a lazy air of resting—yet all the while his keen gaze kept flitting over the surroundings. Meanwhile Ho-in wandered this way and that, snapping brushwood and kindling a fire, seeing to the rice.

Perhaps half an hour passed. Ho-in reported to the old man.

"The rice is ready, Father."

He looked around once more.

"No one suspicious in sight."

"Good. Well done."

The two ate their meal, and even afterward they kept watching the area for a while longer. At last, satisfied that no one was about, the old man rose.

"Let us go."

"Yes."

Until that moment Hong-wi had remained sunk in his brooding beneath the pine's shade.

The old man spoke first.

"I trust you keep well, sir."

"And who might you be?"

Hong-wi, roused from his reverie, snapped awake. A wariness crept into his face. The two men, standing at a respectful distance, bowed long and low.

"We are travelers of leisure, wandering the eight provinces. The day is hot—might we sit a while in your shade?"

"Traveling for leisure, you say..."

No matter how much Hong-wi wished to forget the world, he could not help but hunger for news of it. But keenly aware of his own circumstances, he found it hard to welcome strangers in, and could not answer right away. Seeing this, the old man smiled.

"There is no one near to overhear. Have no fear."

Hong-wi stared at him for a long moment, then finally nodded.

"Very well."

"I am obliged."

The two approached into the pine's shade, and no sooner had they settled before Hong-wi than they bowed low at once. Startled and made uncomfortable by it, Hong-wi heard the old man speak in a low voice.

"To be granted this audience—it is the honor of my life, Your Highness."

Highness?

Hong-wi's eyebrows twitched. Before he could manage any reply, the old man spoke first.

"This humble one belongs to the Jeon clan of Mun-gyeong—Jeon Jung-jae, stylename Iljong, a clerk handling affairs at the Sunheung Magistracy. I was once exiled to Sunheung for a crime, and Magistrate Yi Bo-heum, out of undeserved grace, granted me the post of clerk."

Jeon Jung-jae turned to the tall, powerfully built young man standing beside him and introduced him anew.

"This is my good-for-nothing son. His name is Ho-in. I brought him along to pay his respects to Your Highness."

Ho-in bowed. But while the introductions were being made, Hong-wi's mind had gone elsewhere. The moment Jeon Jung-jae finished speaking, he demanded urgently:

"Sunheung—did you say Sunheung, just now?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Then is that not the very place where my uncle, Grand Prince Geumseong, resides?"

"It is precisely so, Your Highness."

Grand Prince Geumseong, Lee Yu, had been the closest of Hong-wi's uncles to his heart. The sons of King Sejong—hailed to this day as one of the greatest kings Joseon would ever know—had all, as if they inherited it from their father, possessed outstanding ability and forceful personalities in equal measure.

Suyang went without saying, and Grand Prince Anpyeong, Lee Yong, was accomplished in the arts and an ambitious man besides—for young Hong-wi, they were uncles to be feared. His sixth uncle, Grand Prince Geumseong, alone had cherished Hong-wi sincerely, and Hong-wi had been devoted to him in return. As a boy, whenever both King Sejong and King Munjong left the palace empty, Hong-wi would invariably go and lodge at his "kind uncle's" house.

Because of that bond, ever since the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Suyeong Rebellion, Grand Prince Geumseong had stood—almost alone among the royal clan—against the swaggering faction of Suyang, striving to protect Hong-wi. Naturally, Suyang found this distasteful, and when the Sayuksin affair erupted, Grand Prince Geumseong found himself placed under thorn-hedge confinement in Sunheung, Gyeongsang Province.