The Broken Net of Spies
Yang Jeong made no effort to hide his displeasure.
He clearly considered the matter of Jianzhou to be the business of the Pyeongan Provincial Commander, not his own.
Only after Han Myeong-hoe pressed him again did Yang Jeong let out a long sigh, as though he had been handed some outrageous demand.
"Very well. But as I see it, even if Prince Nosan really is in Jianzhou, in these times intelligence will be hard to come by."
Han Myeong-hoe glared at him, clearly unimposed by the answer.
Yang Jeong replied curtly.
"Is that so?"
"It is. It's not as though I'm ignorant of affairs in Jianzhou. War could break out there at any moment and it would surprise no one. Are you aware that Fancha, the Dudu of the Jianzhou Right Guard, is ill? You're not? Hmph, then allow me to inform you. He's been ailing since last summer, they say — old as he is, he's been wasting away. And it appears Tungshan, the Dudu of the Jianzhou Left Guard, is watching for this chance to try and swallow the Right Guard for himself."
Han Myeong-hoe considered this for a moment.
"So you're saying a fight is likely to break out in Jianzhou before long."
"That's right. Small clashes are already growing more frequent by the day. Even if Prince Nosan did survive and flee to Jianzhou, would he strut about openly in the middle of all that chaos? He'd be hiding somewhere, buried deep. Besides, the tribesmen are too busy fighting each other — who would spare a thought for a runaway from Joseon?"
Yang Jeong gave a shrug.
Han Myeong-hoe, who had been listening with a furrowed brow, eventually conceded that the man had a point.
"That may well be. When I return to Hanyang, I shall submit a memorial requesting reinforcements for the intelligence agents."
Yang Jeong shrugged again.
It was plain he thought even that would accomplish little.
Han Myeong-hoe decided he needed to offer the man some motivation.
"Listen to me, my lord. I give you my word — if your cooperation leads us to Prince Nosan's trail, the credit will be yours and yours alone. And even if it comes through some other means, the moment the matter of Prince Nosan is resolved cleanly, you will be summoned straight to Hanyang. That I promise."
Yang Jeong still wore a sour expression, but Han Myeong-hoe's words seemed to have struck a chord.
After all, if Han Myeong-hoe was guaranteeing it...
"And even if your rise through the ranks lags behind the other merit subjects — what of it? No doubt office and rank rarely come by lightning strike. But what manner of man is His Highness? The one who looks after his own trusted men, and takes responsibility for them besides. Your start may be late, but there is nothing stopping you from being called a Grand Minister in good time — Minister of War at the very least, and if things go well, even Chief State Councillor."
"Do you truly think so?"
Yang Jeong looked up at him with hope in his eyes.
Han Myeong-hoe nodded.
"Why would you doubt it? Consider, after all, how important your post is — Provincial Commander of Hamgil. A position that holds the finest elite soldiers of the realm in one hand. Who else would such a post be given to?"
Yang Jeong seemed to accept this.
Han Myeong-hoe sneered inwardly.
Do you truly think so, indeed.
Minister? Chief State Councillor? For an ignorant blockhead of a military man? The gall of this boor, imagining he could stand as an equal to Gachik Hong Dal-son or Suong Hong Yun-seong simply because they all came from military backgrounds.
Those two were scholars and soldiers both, in their own right — hardly comparable to Yang Jeong.
"So do not be too impatient. Once the matter of Prince Nosan is settled, your future is a broad open road — concern yourself with that and nothing else. Before that problem, forget all this talk of Pyeongan Province and Hamgil Province and jurisdictions. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
Yang Jeong's manner had grown markedly respectful.
Having concluded his business, Han Myeong-hoe stepped out of the official residence.
Dusk had fallen at some point.
Beneath the dim glow of a pine torch, he made out the shadow of a man in a broad-brimmed hat, dressed head to toe in black.
"Have you finished your business, my lord?"
"Hmph."
At Han Ga-ryeong's question, Han Myeong-hoe gave a cold laugh.
"Humoring a greedy fool is an irritation all its own. But what can one do? He's politically reliable, and he has some talent for command besides — so I have no choice but to keep stroking him and put him to use. Come, we return to the guesthouse. I'm exhausted."
"Yes, my lord."
Han Ga-ryeong went ahead with the lantern, and Han Myeong-hoe followed behind.
"From what I could see, the intelligence network here is barely functioning at all. The Provincial Commander himself half washes his hands of the matter, muttering about jurisdiction — how could his subordinates be expected to work properly? It was never like this when Yi Jing-ok was alive."
Han Myeong-hoe gave a bitter smile.
"Though I suppose it was I who insisted Yi Jing-ok had to be purged. Yes — that had to be done. But it's been years since his death, and by now that hole should have been filled."
"What if we replace Yang Jeong as he wishes and summon him to Hanyang? A man forced to sit in a post he never asked for — will he truly work as he should?"
"Replace him?"
Han Myeong-hoe chuckled.
"Then whom would you put in his place? Say what you will, a man with Yang Jeong's talent for command who is also politically reliable is no common find. For the time being, Yang Jeong must hold this place."
"For the time being, then. Lord Yang will be disappointed."
"Things were worse in King Sejong's day."
Han Myeong-hoe answered absently.
His mind was tangled in other thoughts entirely.
"When Yi Jing-ok purged the faction back then, there must be those who slipped through and are hiding here and there still. Hyeongpan will handle them well enough, but in the meantime we must mend the intelligence network. In the few days I remain here, I should like to learn how much of it is actually working. Listen, Ga-ryeong — take charge of the investigation yourself. Anyone who refuses to cooperate when my name is spoken will be hard to find."
"Understood, my lord."
Han Ga-ryeong answered.
By then they had already arrived before the guesthouse.
As Han Myeong-hoe stepped inside, he spoke to Han Ga-ryeong.
"Get some rest tonight. From tomorrow, we shall be busy."
"Yes, my lord."
And so it proved.
During the days Han Myeong-hoe remained in Gilju, Han Ga-ryeong was kept busy conducting a thorough survey of Hamgil Province's intelligence apparatus.
The investigation itself posed little difficulty.
Everyone knew that Han Myeong-hoe stood behind Han Ga-ryeong, and so none dared report falsely. And even had they tried, it would have been difficult to sustain a lie in Han Ga-ryeong's presence for long.
"As you observed, my lord, the intelligence network here does not function properly. There is no real oversight, and everyone does only what they are ordered to do and nothing more. We might, at best, ferret out which chieftains harbor grievances against the tribes — but tracking each individual fugitive who has fled from Joseon is beyond us."
"Hmm. That is what I feared."
Han Myeong-hoe frowned as he listened to Han Ga-ryeong's report.
He murmured, half to himself.
"How did it come to this?"
In truth, the blame lay largely with Suyang and his faction.
Uprooting Yi Jing-ok and his faction as potential rebels was one thing — that much could not be helped. But those seated in the places of the purged had been chosen not for their ability, but for their loyalty to the new regime.
Under the banner of preventing any spark of rebellion, the discretion of working officers had been strangled to the bone.
The trouble was that in intelligence work, more than in any other field, the judgment of the men on the ground was everything. Thanks to superiors mired in self-preservation, ignorant of the work itself, who wished only to hear what pleased their ears, the intelligence apparatus had withered badly.
"Pyeongan Province will be no different, I suspect."
"Likely not. When I return to Hanyang, I shall rebuild the entire intelligence system from the ground up. We will select trustworthy men and train them anew. What do you think?"
"A necessary measure."
Han Ga-ryeong agreed.
"We should sift capable young talent from those selected for martial skill. Drawing on experienced officers has its merits, but mastering the customs of the tribes to the very marrow is a thing best done young."
"What of recruiting from the settled tribesmen within our walls, or the Hwachok of tribal descent? A fair number of our current agents come from their ranks, do they not?"
Han Myeong-hoe raised the objection.
Han Ga-ryeong shook his head.
"They are not always trustworthy men. They would serve well enough for gathering rumors and identifying tribes disloyal to the state — but my lord, would you entrust the search for Prince Nosan to just anyone?"
"A fair point."
"This matter must never leak to the outside. We should select young officers and have them drill thoroughly in tribal customs and speech for at least half a year."
"Half a year? That is rather..."
Han Ga-ryeong nodded firmly.
"That much time must be invested. The more time, the better. The tribes are deeply insular — doubly so toward Joseon men. Saving time is all well and good, but what would we gain from a pile of corpses?"
"You always speak so refreshingly plainly, Ga-ryeong. It does my heart good. Very well — haste makes waste."
Han Myeong-hoe smiled.
"Upon my return I shall first report to His Highness. We will seek the cooperation of the Ministry of War and select capable officers. Speaking of which — who would make the best commander for them?"
"As for a commander, it should be a seasoned officer well versed in the ways of the tribes. He must be trustworthy as well. Officers of that kind are not entirely absent, but..."
"I know exactly who the right man is, Ga-ryeong. Do you not know as well?"
Han Myeong-hoe said quietly.
"My lord, I hold no office and no rank. How would they accept me?"
"With me standing behind you, who would dare look down on you?"
Han Ga-ryeong made no reply.
"As you yourself said — to hunt Prince Nosan, we need a man above all others who can be trusted. Someone unquestionably on our side."
"My lord."
Han Ga-ryeong spoke in a low voice.
"What is it, Ga-ryeong?"
"You know that it was I who let Prince Nosan slip away."
"Hmm."
Han Myeong-hoe only gave a slight shrug.
Han Ga-ryeong continued.
"Are you certain it is wise to entrust the pursuit of Prince Nosan to a man such as me?"
"If not you, then whom would I give this task to? There is no one else."
Han Myeong-hoe answered simply.
He looked Han Ga-ryeong straight in the eye.
"The world says of me that I trust no one. Is that so?"
"There are such rumors."
Han Ga-ryeong nodded.
"There are. But even a man like that — there are times when he trusts someone. Or at the very least, wishes to."
Han Ga-ryeong gazed at Han Myeong-hoe in silence for a long moment.
"...If that is what you say, my lord, then I shall follow you."
Hwangseongpyeong, lying directly across the Amnok River from Manpo, had taken its name — 'Imperial City Plain' — from the belief that it had once been the land of the Jin emperors.
Manpo was where the licensed official trade between Joseon and the Jurchen tribes took place, and so it was a waypoint that no merchant coming to trade from anywhere in Jianzhou could avoid.
A settlement naturally sprang up there, and within Jianzhou it was the most prosperous village, and the closest to Joseon.
Hong-wi and Ho-in, arriving at Hwangseongpyeong, looked about the village with eyes full of wonder.
"The village is remarkably flourishing. Even in Joseon, towns of this size are rare."
"It's the foremost village in Jianzhou, after all. Unlike the other tribal villages, you might well call this one a town built by merchants. This is your first proper look at Hwangseongpyeong, isn't it? Last time we came at night."
"It's a tribal village, yet somehow it gives off a distinctly Joseon feel as well."
Ho-in's observation was accurate.
The clothing of the passersby was an even mixture of tribal dress and Joseon garb, and no small number wore the two styles oddly blended together.
It was not only clothing — the houses were the same.
The dwellings of the tribes were close to turf huts with grass-woven roofs, and even a chieftain's house differed little; but here, a fair number of homes had been built in the Joseon style.
That said, not a single one was tiled — all were thatch.
The atmosphere of the streets was different too.
Falling short of the marketplace boulevards of Hanyang, the town still carried a distinctly urban air, considering it stood in the land of the 'uncivilized' tribes.
The streets bustled with mules laden with every manner of goods and the people driving them, and the noisy clamor of haggling rose from every side.
Jurchen speech was not the only tongue to be heard — Joseon speech mingled in, and even the language of the Ming.
And even the Jurchen tongues came in a welter of dialects, so that the whole thing felt like a stew of languages.
Nowhere else in Joseon would give quite the same impression.
"Where are we headed?"
"This way. Follow me."
Cha Gyeong-yeon stepped into the labyrinthine streets of Hwangseongpyeong with the easy stride of a man who knew every stone of them.
Hong-wi, following behind him, suddenly stopped walking.
"Who are those men over there?"
As Cha Gyeong-yeon and Ho-in turned to look, several rough-looking men came into view, clubs in hand, bullying a group of merchants.
"Please, my lords, just this once — show us mercy!"
"Shut up, you wretches! If you've come to sell your goods in Hwangseongpyeong, you owe the Dudu his tax!"
Hong-wi found himself listening in spite of himself.
Thanks to the months he had spent diligently learning the Jurchen tongue, he could follow most of it.
Ho-in still could not make out the words, but from the look of things he could read the situation well enough.
"Thugs shaking down the merchants, it seems."
"So it would appear."
Hong-wi nodded, then turned to Cha Gyeong-yeon.
"Who are those men? They said 'Dudu' just now."
"That's how the tribesmen address a Dudu — a governor. Each of the Three Jianzhou Guards has its own Dudu, but when they say simply 'Dudu,' they usually mean Lee Man-ju."
Just then came the crash of splintering wood, followed by a scream.