The Tale of the Mountain Lord
"We may have run into some trouble on the road and lost our yanggye-sik, but that doesn't mean we have nothing to pay with. Here — there are fragments of broken silver. Show this to the master of the house."
Hong-wi held out the silver flakes.
The errand boy narrowed his eyes, looking doubtful.
Korea had tried since the days of King Sejong to establish a coin-based currency following the Chinese model, but with commerce so sluggish, every such attempt had come to nothing.
Even bartering with rice or cotton cloth was hardly flourishing to begin with.
Wonju, a county of some standing with its own provincial governor's office, was no exception — scarcely anyone there ever settled a bill with scraps of silver.
"Wait a moment."
Tilting his head, the boy stole a few glances at the two men, then ducked inside.
Ho-in murmured under his breath.
"We stand out too much, if you ask me."
"Nothing to be done about it."
The two waited silently outside the gate. From within the inn came a steady stream of laughter and exclamations, as if some spectacle were unfolding inside. After they had waited a while, the door creaked open and an elderly man, well advanced in years, emerged alongside the errand boy.
"So you're the ones who said you'd be staying the night and had business with me?"
"That's right."
"You don't look familiar to me…… Could we have met somewhere before?"
The old man looked back and forth between Hong-wi and Ho-in. Ho-in shook his head.
"No, sir."
"Hm."
The old man gave a shrug of his shoulders.
"Come inside first, then. It'd be poor manners to snub travelers — we can talk indoors. Makdong, you go see to your chores."
At the old man's word, the errand boy scurried off toward the drinking pavilion. The old man clicked his tongue as he watched him go, then turned back to Hong-wi's party.
"Forgive the young whelp. He turned you away without even telling me you'd come."
"Not at all."
"So, where do you two hail from?"
"Yeongwol."
"Yeongwol?"
The old man nodded slowly.
"There's been a great deal of traffic to and from Yeongwol these past few days. From what I hear, the sovereign who was staying there has run off."
With hearts heavier than they could show, the two men leaned in to hear what the old man would say next.
"That's why quite a few people have come down from Hanyang as well."
"Are there still many about?"
"Ah, not so many now. Most of them have scattered off to Yeongwol and the country around it. The folk there must be having a rough time of it, I'd wager. Whereabouts in Yeongwol are you from? And what might your family name be?"
"Dong-eulji is my place, and my family name is Yi."
Hong-wi improvised with a place name he half-remembered hearing during his time at Cheongnyeongpo.
I should have made up a surname too. He could only hope the old man had no ties to Yeongwol. If by ill luck the man happened to know someone there, the whole fabrication would unravel on the spot.
Thankfully, the old man seemed to know little of the place.
"Is that so."
"If you might spare some time later, Elder, could I trouble you to hear about the situation here in Wonju? In our village, uneasy rumors are flying thick as locusts."
"Of course. Well, the governor of Yeongwol has been stripped of his post, and who knows — the whole affair might yet turn into charges of treason. It's small wonder people are rattled."
Only then did Hong-wi learn that the magistrate of Yeongwol had been dismissed from office as well.
He searched his memory for the man's face.
It didn't weigh on him much. Far more piteous, he thought, were the eunuchs and court ladies he'd left behind at Cheongnyeongpo, who must be enduring untold hardship in his stead.
"Yes, exactly — which is why my father sent me to find out the particulars of the situation and bring word back."
"I can well believe it. I'll tell you more in a little while. Hmm, now let me see — I need to show you to your room. If you'd come yesterday, we'd truly have had nothing left, but as luck would have it, one small room is still open. When the governor himself says to put guests up even in a spare room, what can I do? Being a county clerk is no easy trade either, let me tell you."
The two men exchanged a glance.
Of all people, their host turned out to be another clerk working under the provincial governor's office.
And yet that might prove a blessing in disguise.
A man of his standing would know in intimate detail how Wonju was faring, who these strangers pouring into town were, and the like.
Hong-wi spoke with careful meekness.
"You've had your share of troubles, it seems. Our household is much the same — we serve as district clerks in our home county."
"Ah, so your father works as a clerk too? Then you know how thankless it is."
Forgetting all about showing them to their room, the old man launched into a litany of grievances.
From what he said, he hadn't even opened this tavern by choice.
He was one of the better-off farmers in Wonju, and so the governor's office had saddled him with a clerkship — a position with no pay, only drudgery.
"And then, what with all my children married off and only the one wife left at home, the office clerks took to dropping by under one pretext or another, all so they could drink on my tab."
"So that's why your house became the tavern."
At Hong-wi's words, the old man wrinkled his brow and gave a scornful snort.
"If only it were a proper tavern, I'd count myself lucky. At least then I'd be earning rice for my troubles, wouldn't I? No — I'd have been better off with a shabby little hovel. As it is, there are days when the governor's own excellency has guests to receive and sends them to my house. What kind of maddening arrangement is that?"
"I see."
"It's the truth, mind you. The ones who stayed here last night were men from Hanyang too — come to catch the sovereign who's said to have fled Yeongwol."
Ho-in swallowed hard.
With nowhere else to go, they ended up in a place like this……
It was sheer providence that they had arrived a day late.
Hong-wi, by contrast, remained perfectly composed.
Guessing nothing of what passed in the minds of either man, the old man grumbled on and on.
"What in the world is becoming of this country? They pack a perfectly good king off to the boondocks of Yeongwol, and now that he's vanished they raise all this uproar over it. Thanks to them, I toil away at unpaid work with nothing but Government liquor and government rice gruel for my pains. They dumped this clerkship I never asked for on my shoulders — aigoo, honestly."
After grumbling for a long stretch, the old man turned back to Hong-wi's party, and a sudden look of unease crossed his face.
"Oh dear, now that I think of it — you said you'd be going to the governor's office tomorrow. Don't you dare tell anyone I said all this."
"Rest easy on that score. The truth is, we've come about a lawsuit. If you serve in the governor's office, Elder, then when it comes down to it, we're the ones who'll need to beg your help."
"Oh ho, so it's me you're after."
The old man looked relieved on one hand, and intrigued on the other.
"Yes — it's a matter of a grave-site dispute."
"A grave-site dispute?"
The old man tilted his head. A sansong dispute — a quarrel over burial ground — was hardly the sort of grievance that often found its way to a magistrate's court.
"Yes, and so we're meant to meet here first with a man who has promised to aid our family, and then go on together to the governor's office. But the trouble is, we don't know who he is."
"Goodness — and how is it you don't know who this man is?"
Hong-wi licked his lips.
Lies, it seems, grow flesh of their own the longer you tell them.
"He's said to be a distant kinsman of mine. The truth is, an elder of our household who once met him here was to travel with me, but the poor man took ill without warning. I wonder, Elder — is there anyone you might guess at?"
"Hm."
The old man seemed to ponder it for a long moment, then shook his head.
"I couldn't say. So many strangers have been coming and going these past few days, you see…… And there are a few more staying at other houses in the village besides."
"I see. That's trouble indeed. Even if we go to the governor's office, we must meet that man first — and now there's no telling how many days it might take."
Hong-wi heaved a theatrical sigh.
The old man waved his hands.
"Think nothing of it. It's a humble place, but stay as many days as you like. The truth is, you've already paid well beyond the going rate…… I've lived a long time, but never once have I seen a guest settle his bill like this. If there's anything you need for your lawsuit, just say the word. I'll help you all I can."
"Thank you, Elder!"
Hong-wi bowed low, again and again. The old man waved a hand and disappeared inside, and only then did Ho-in let out a long, shuddering breath.
"I aged ten years just now. My lor— I mean, my lord. The moment he said he worked for the governor's office, I nearly died of fright. How on earth are you so bold?"
"I was on pins and needles myself."
Hong-wi smiled faintly. The lies had poured out of him so smoothly he could hardly believe he was the one telling them — it was almost impressive.
"In any case, we've settled where to sleep for the next few days. Now the problem is finding that man."
Ho-in's face clouded with worry.
"Indeed. If the innkeeper's word holds, then who's to say men from the governor's office — even Suyang's spies sent down from Hanyang — aren't lodging right here? Moving rashly would be dangerous."
"To catch a tiger, you must first enter the tiger's den. Come, let's have a look at the drinking pavilion."
"What? Right this moment……"
"The sun will be setting soon. We should ask our questions while there are still people about."
"Ah — of course."
Ho-in agreed. Just then, Makdong appeared with another servant, carrying a knee-high tray laden with a meal.
"Guests, your food is served."
At the sight of it, both men's stomachs growled audibly.
Hong-wi laughed.
"Come to think of it, it's been a long while since we had a proper meal. Let's eat first and think after."
It was a rustic country table, to be sure — barley-mixed rice, a few dishes of vegetables and mountain greens, nothing more.
But the rice was heaped high, and the board was generous in its way, and to two starving men it might as well have been a royal banquet. In what felt like an instant, they swept their bowls clean.
It was the first real meal of rice they'd had in ages.
Hong-wi rose.
"Let's go."
Taking care to draw no eyes, the two made their way toward the drinking pavilion. Dusk was settling deeper by the minute, and from the pavilion drifted the sounds of someone performing comic anecdotes in a merry voice, and of roars of laughter.
Ho-in tilted his head.
"Some kind of show at this hour?"
"Who knows. Well — works in our favor, doesn't it?"
Hong-wi replied thus and stepped into the courtyard. To his surprise, a good twenty-odd people were clustered together there in a tight huddle.
At the center, perched atop a flat platform table, sat a strapping fellow with a cotton headband wound tight about his brow and a fur-trimmed hunting cap on his head.
A smile never left his lips — at a glance, the very picture of a likable man.
Hong-wi murmured.
"A peddler-bard."
"Looks like it. That fellow's gift of gab is something else. Thanks to him, every eye in the place is on him."
Ho-in whispered back. The two found an unobtrusive spot in a corner and swept their gaze over the crowd.
The innkeeper they had spoken with earlier caught their eye first. He sat perched on the opposite veranda, talking with two burly men, his expression distinctly sour.
Hong-wi studied them closely.
The two men conversed in low, measured voices, as though loath to draw attention — yet there was something vaguely arrogant in their bearing, and they kept cutting the innkeeper off before he could finish.
Every so often, they cast sharp, sweeping glances around the drinking pavilion.
Those two are the ones dispatched from Hanyang.
A knot of unease tightened in Hong-wi's chest.
Which unit did they belong to? Could they be the Naegeumwi, the Inner Royal Guard? If so, might they recognize his face?
Just then, the innkeeper called for his errand boy. Hong-wi saw Makdong running off at a trot — and the moment one of the two men seemed to glance his way, he smoothly turned his gaze aside.
Then a drunk bellowed out in a voice thick with liquor.
"Hey there, friend — you've led quite a life! What in blazes were you doing before you took up peddling?"
The man wore a black deogeure coat — some low-ranking officer of the governor's guard, by the look of him. He'd apparently planted himself here straight after evening muster, for his nose was glowing scarlet.
The man in the hunting cap called back in kind.
"Ha! I've been wandering every corner of the world since before I was even out of my mother's belly — what's there to tell?"
"From inside your mother's belly? My, my — born under the wandering star, eh?"
Another drunk shouted out.
"Roaming about like that, how do you even feed yourself?"
"Well, I won't boast, but if you make the circuits of all eight provinces, there's nothing you can't scrape a living from. In the mountains I sell firewood and play the herb-gatherer; one season I'd tag along with an itinerant performers' troupe doing comedy routines; in the big county towns I deal in medicines, and I'll cast a fortune or two as well."
"Hah! You read fortunes too, is that it?"
"I know the craft."
At that, the man in the hunting cap let out a sigh.
"And every one of them has its story behind it, I'll tell you."
"Stories, you say?"
Several asked him to go on. They'd been listening to his tales all afternoon, but they were so entertaining that no one had tired of them yet.
"Hmm — you all know Mt. Chiak there, don't you……? Well, once I was cutting wood on its slopes, doing a stretch as a herb-gatherer too. And then one day, wouldn't you know it, I met a hermit. Just like that."
"I never heard tell of a hermit living on Mt. Chiak!"
Someone cut in mid-story. The man in the hunting cap shot him a sidelong glance.
"Oi, let a man finish his tale, will you. That day, my dream had been strangely, wonderfully auspicious, you see…… and my heart was pounding fit to burst. Aye, with a dream-luck like this, today I'll surely dig up a thousand-year-old ginseng! — all fired up like that, I pushed deep into the mountain. And then, aigoo, aigoo — ginseng? I couldn't even find my own way out. Lost, plain and simple."
"Greed got ahead of your eyes, then!"
As one drunk hollered, the others deep in the tale roared with laughter. Once the commotion settled, the man in the cap took up his thread again.
"Maybe my greed ran away with me, maybe it didn't — either way, I was in a right state. Oh no, this is bad — no doubt about it, I'm spending the night in these woods. Then I stumbled out into an open clearing, and — aha! There he was, the Lord of the Mountain, standing right before me!"
The man clapped his hands together with a crack.
The crowd went silent. After a moment, someone spoke.
"The Lord of the Mountain — you mean a tiger?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
The man in the cap nodded. By now, everyone drawn into the story was swallowing hard. Even Hong-wi and Ho-in found themselves leaning in without meaning to.
"Wait — you said your dream-luck was good, didn't you…… So how in the world did you get out alive?"
"Exactly — hear me out. Now, a tiger that's lived a hundred years, they say it can even take human shape, don't they?"
"I've heard such tales, I suppose."
As the crowd nodded along uncertainly, the man in the hunting cap carried on with gathering relish.
"So there I was, and the Mountain Lord transformed himself straight into a man before my very eyes. And what a strange figure he cut, I'll tell you. On his head he wore that — what do you call it — a white gwan-cap; over his shoulders, a robe of the purest white; and in his hand he carried a crane-feather fan. Just like that, he came walking toward me."
He told it as though he'd witnessed it with his own eyes, and the crowd hung on his every word, spellbound. Even the men talking with the innkeeper had turned to listen.
"At first I didn't even know it was the Mountain Lord — but I could tell at a glance he was no ordinary being, so I just threw myself flat on the ground. Oh, merciful sir, only spare my life! I was whimpering away like that, when the Mountain Lord looked hard at me, his eyes bulging wide, and thundered at me — You wretch! You have dared trespass upon the domain of the Mountain Lord, and your crime is grave indeed! Think not of returning alive this day!"
"Aigoo — caught red-handed, then."