The Rope on the Pine Bough
Suyang finally opened his mouth.
"But... you see, now that things have turned out this way, I find myself growing rather stubborn about it."
"Your Highness!"
At Han Myeong-hoe's cry, Suyang raised a hand to silence him.
"Hong-wi's life is already as good as in the palm of my hand. And yet, the more I think on it, the more a certain thought takes root. Have we not all watched with our own eyes as that child sat upon this very throne I sit on now, wearing this very crown I wear, playing at being king while elder ministers told him do this, do that — and wavered before them all? And how worried we were then, how pitiful he seemed!"
Han Myeong-hoe clicked his tongue inwardly.
He knew all too well that once Suyang began one of his long-winded soliloquies, the only course was to play along.
"Yes, I remember it well, Your Highness."
"Precisely! That is why I — this Suyang — had no choice but to make the resolve to save the nation. While every other man did nothing but lament, I alone took action! It was by this hand that I struck down those ministers who monopolized and corrupted the government! It was I who made the decision, so that this country might be governed well once more!"
Suyang slammed his fist down with a thud.
Bloodshot veins stood out in both his eyes, and his lips had gone pale and dry.
The next moment, he let out a long, heavy sigh.
"And yet — however fickle the hearts of the world may be, morning and evening alike, what is this? Only yesterday they scorned that child's weakness, and now they wring their hands and weep over how pitiable he is. No one, no one at all, acknowledges the resolve to save this nation that burns within my breast."
"Your Highness..."
Han Myeong-hoe was beginning to tire of the tirade.
"Yes — let us do away with Nosan-gun. Mm, well, in the end it must come to that. And yet... not now. Not yet."
"Your Highness."
Han Myeong-hoe's brow stiffened almost imperceptibly.
"Let it be, for now. I cannot bear this as I am. That child has those who rise up in his obedience, and I — how many times has it been already? Very well, call the Hall of Worthies scholars ignorant fools who know nothing of the world. Call Song Hyeon-su and his lot traitors bound to Hong-wi by marriage, if you must. But Yi Yu? Must even he turn against me? Against his own elder brother — can he truly do that to his own brother? That man, who knew better than anyone that the dignity of the royal house must stand above all else?"
Suyang shook his head.
"As things stand, my pride will not permit it. That child raises up the authority of a king, while I — I who could not preserve even one piece of that royal authority — must watch men rise in rebellion over it. I cannot accept such a thing."
"Your Highness, then remove the root of the calamity—"
"I said to leave it be, for now."
Han Myeong-hoe closed his mouth.
Once Suyang dug in like this, there was no use pressing further. It was wiser, rather, to bide his time and speak again when the moment was right.
"I shall take my leave, then."
"One moment, Jajun."
Just as he rose to go, Suyang spoke again.
"I know well what you would say to me. Yes — to put out a fire, one must remove the embers; that much is true. But my heart is not in it just now."
"I understand Your Highness's wishes completely."
Suyang waved a hand as if to say that was enough.
"Go on, then."
"Yes, Your Highness."
When Han Myeong-hoe withdrew from Sajeongjeon Hall, he found the Minister of Personnel Gwon Ram and the Minister of War Hong Dal-son waiting outside.
The moment he emerged, the two men stopped him.
"Ah, Chief Councillor — so you've finally come out."
"And the Minister of Personnel and the Minister of War besides. Come to seek an audience with His Highness?"
Gwon Ram answered Han Myeong-hoe's question.
"That was my intention, but hearing that you were in attendance upon His Highness, I decided simply to wait."
"I see. And what did His Highness say?"
Han Myeong-hoe smacked his lips.
"He could not make up his mind. Would it not be better if the Minister of Personnel tried his hand at persuasion?"
"How could I ever measure up to you, the master schemer himself?"
Gwon Ram waved his hand with a laugh, and Hong Dal-son grumbled under his breath.
"Honestly... this is maddening. What's come over His Highness all of a sudden? Is it that he's begun to pity Nosan-gun at this late hour?"
"It is not that. You know as well as I, Minister of War, that His Highness is not a man bound by such sentiment."
True enough, that.
Hong Dal-son scratched the back of his head and asked, "Then why in the world is he like this?"
"If you ask me — it is his pride."
"His pride?"
"Just so. That weakling Nosan-gun has men rising up for him without end, while His Highness — who lacks for nothing that child has, and possesses far more besides — must watch men rise against him. He cannot stomach it."
"Hah, truly! To let such a thing burn in his gut."
Hong Dal-son grumbled on. "Then what are we to do?"
"What do you mean, what are we to do? His Highness has no wish to bloody his hands in haste."
"Come now — are we simply to leave Nosan-gun be?"
Hong Dal-son looked thoroughly displeased, and Han Myeong-hoe, already no less stifled than he, felt his irritation begin to boil over.
"Then what would you have me do? His Highness finds it distasteful!"
"Are you not His Highness's master strategist? Then surely you ought to produce some plan!"
"Heh heh. Not even Zhuge Liang himself could avail a king who refuses to listen — a hundred stratagems would be worthless. Since your strategist's wits have failed him, pray share with us, great general, whatever brilliant scheme you may possess."
Han Myeong-hoe sneered with unmistakable edge, and Hong Dal-son clamped his mouth shut and fell deep into thought.
"There is... one idea I have."
"What is it?"
Gwon Ram and Han Myeong-hoe asked in unison.
Hong Dal-son cleared his throat.
"You recall how King Taejong dealt with that Mong-ju fellow? Back then, too, King Taejo forbade the killing of Mong-ju, did he not?"
"He did, yes — and?"
"Despite his father's stern command, King Taejong made his resolve: Mong-ju and his faction could not be left alone."
Both Gwon Ram and Han Myeong-hoe were men whose minds turned quickly. They grasped at once what Hong Dal-son was driving at.
"Yes, and your point being?"
"Ah — so what I'm saying is, why not simply do away with Nosan-gun in secret? That's all."
Hong Dal-son, a soldier to the bone and quicker of tongue than was wise, snapped it out in irritation. Han Myeong-hoe shrugged.
"But even that might... invite loose talk afterward, wouldn't it?"
"What loose talk could there possibly be? Yeongwol is a mountain valley, is it not? A place where even tigers roam within the county itself. Bandits, wild beasts — what better excuse could anyone ask for?"
Han Myeong-hoe laughed inwardly.
So the hot-tempered old soldier had, of all things, stepped forward to scratch where it itched!
But there was no need to insert himself into the business of hanging the bell around the cat's neck. Gwon Ram seemed to be thinking much the same.
"Now, now, Your Excellency — lower your voice. And is Nosan-gun not residing at the Yeongwol magistrate's office at present? What bandit, what tiger would come there?"
Only then did Hong Dal-son glance about and lower his voice. "Well... that may be so, but—"
"Though, of course," Han Myeong-hoe murmured, "if Nosan-gun were to flee his place of exile on his own two feet, that would be another matter entirely."
At those words, Gwon Ram cleared his throat as well. "Ahem... in such a case, the story would be quite different. Should something befall him in the mountain valleys of Yeongwol — who would ever know?"
"And in that case, His Highness's worries would be laid to rest."
Han Myeong-hoe and Gwon Ram traded words back and forth as though they had rehearsed it beforehand, and a light kindled in Hong Dal-son's eyes.
"The only question is whether Nosan-gun actually runs."
"Understood, understood! I cannot say whether such a thing will come to pass — but if he should happen to flee, have no fear. It lies well within the palm of my hand."
Judging by the confidence in Hong Dal-son's voice, he did indeed have something up his sleeve. Han Myeong-hoe and Gwon Ram exchanged a glance and allowed themselves a faint smile.
"Well — in any case, we must go on persuading His Highness."
"Agreed. One cannot rely on 'accident' alone, after all."
Gwon Ram cleared his throat.
While such schemes were being woven in Hanyang, Hong-wi tossed and turned, unable to sleep at all.
His mind was consumed, from end to end, by the conversation he had shared with Jeon Jung-jae that day. Over and over, he replayed the words they had exchanged.
"Your Majesty. His Excellency feared that some such thing might come to pass, and so he sent us here to Yeongwol."
"You mean my uncle Geumseong. To what end, exactly?"
At Hong-wi's listless question, Jeon Jung-jae had bowed his head and answered.
"Judging by the precedent of the Hall of Worthies scholars, His Excellency judged that if the plot were to leak, Your Majesty's life could not be preserved."
It was true enough.
When the restoration plot of the Six Martyred Ministers had ended in failure, Hong-wi — who had no part in it whatsoever — had been cast down in an instant from reigning king to Nosan-gun and confined to the mountain wilds of Yeongwol. If the restoration movement of Grand Prince Geumseong failed as well, even a child of three could guess how it would end.
Vividly before Hong-wi's eyes rose the image of men like Jeong In-ji, Han Myeong-hoe, and Jeong Chang-son rising like a swarm to demand his death.
After turning it over in his mind for a long while, Hong-wi at last let out a sigh and spoke.
"Then what would you have me do?"
"You must flee, Your Majesty."
Jeon Jung-jae's answer had been simplicity itself.
"Flee... And how am I to slip out of these layered mountains of Yeongwol? And even if I crossed Yeongwol, where in the world would I go? Every province and river of the eight do has long since fallen to my uncle Suyang."
"Your Majesty, it is too early to give up. His Excellency has, unhappily, been struck down — but the world still holds many men of resolve, loyal and righteous. Should some of them fail in their undertaking, their plan was to carry Your Majesty to the northern frontier."
"The northern frontier?"
"Just so. Though Suyang's faction has seized the eight provinces of Joseon, the northern lands are another matter entirely. Since Old Master Wonbong was slaughtered some years ago, many there have bent the knee to Suyang in appearance only, while seething with discontent beneath. I have heard there are many men of substance among the local magnates as well."
"Yes — I know that there still remain those who gave their loyalty to the great King Taejo himself."
Hong-wi had conceded the point. And yet his heart was still not in it.
"But with what face could I cast myself upon them? Even when I sat as king, I could not protect the loyal ministers who rose to defend me. Am I now to lean on bonds of ancestry — an ancestor's ties that feel distant as another lifetime — with men I have never so much as met? Empty words, all of it."
"Your Majesty. This is no time for such talk."
Jeon Jung-jae had looked pained at Hong-wi's spineless reply, and when he shook his head and moved to press his plea again, Hong-wi raised a hand to stop him.
"That you came all this way to find me moves me deeply. But withdraw for today. I will speak with you again once I have gathered my thoughts."
Jeon Jung-jae had fallen silent.
A brief stillness passed between them. His lips twitched as though he would say more, but he only bowed his head once more.
"Your servant... has brought something that His Excellency Grand Prince Geumseong bade him deliver to Your Majesty."
He held out a single wrapped bundle, long and narrow in shape.
When Hong-wi unwrapped it, he found a single sword.
It was some two cheok in length, rustic in appearance yet unmistakably practical. Hong-wi drew the blade, and its keen edge gleamed cold in the sunlight.
Jeon Jung-jae spoke again.
"There is this as well."
Hong-wi unrolled the tightly wound scroll. It bore the painting of a single plum tree, and beside it, two written characters: Chung-jeol — Loyalty and Fidelity.
He could say nothing at all.
"Each day, at this very hour, I shall wait for Your Majesty here, until your resolve is made."
With those words, Jeon Jung-jae offered a final parting bow and departed, leaving Maejukru as quietly and unobtrusively as he had come.
Long after he had vanished, Hong-wi still sat staring into nothing.
A cool breath of wind drifted down from the pine grove and passed gently over him, but it could not soothe the weight upon his heart.
The northern frontier... the lands of the north...
What manner of land was the northern frontier?
Was it not territory opened up only in the reign of his grandfather, the great King Sejong, with the founding of the Four Garrisons and Six Fortresses?
So bitterly cold and barren was that land that, under the policy of relocating entire households, the thousands of settlers driven there froze to death or died of sickness, and the settlements were abandoned outright. So fierce was the people's resentment that it remained the most infamous of all the policies his august grandfather had ever enacted.
That was the northern frontier — by comparison, this remote corner of Yeongwol was almost hospitable.
And even if he went there — would that place truly be safe?
Hong-wi had no certainty. True, as Jeon Jung-jae said, the old subordinates of Yi Jing-ok might yet remain even after his death. But looked at from the other side, was it not precisely that which would draw the eyes of Suyang and his faction?
Hong-wi shook his head.
He could not, not now, drive those men of resolve once more into danger without hope, all to drag out a wretched existence of his own. It would not be borne.
Is it truly right that I go on living like this?
Because his wretched body refused to die, the righteous kept dying in his stead, one after another.
Hwangbo In, Kim Jong-seo, his uncle Grand Prince Anpyeong — and Seong Sam-mun, Park Paeng-nyeon, Ha Wi-ji, Yi Gae, Yu Eung-bu, and his own father-in-law Song Hyeon-su — and now, at last, his uncle Geumseong as well!
Every one of them had met a living death because he drew breath, and the thought pressed down on his chest until it ached.
Hong-wi leaned against the railing of Maejukru and gazed blankly at the scenery around him. The landscape spread before him was as peaceful and idle as it had been the day before — but no longer did its beauty reach his eyes. Only the sorrow remained, pressing upon him with crushing weight.
Then, suddenly, it seemed as though someone were whispering through the pine wind.
What, after all, is this thing called living? For what cause do you drag out your wretched life?
Hong-wi said nothing. The wind whispered again.
It was his uncle Suyang's voice.
Set it all down — abandon it — and every soul will be at ease. Just let it go...
Ah. So that is how it is.
Hong-wi murmured within his heart.
Yes — it is this life you want, is it not? If I but vanish, then the men of honor will be spared. Will they not?
The wind said nothing.
Hong-wi's footsteps stopped as he descended from Maejukru.
As if in mockery of fate itself, a length of hemp rope lay coiled about the stump of a pine tree — as though it had been laid there in waiting, prepared for him alone.
A bitter smile rose to Hong-wi's lips.
He stared at it for a long moment. Then he untied it and looked up at a pine bough hanging a hand-span above his own head.
He looped the rope over it and knotted a noose.
There was no one around.
"Yes... in the end, one goes alone."
Hong-wi breathed the words in a low murmur, planted both feet upon the pine's gnarled roots, and pushed his neck into the loop.
As the rope tightened around his throat, his breath began, slowly, to fail.