The Monk Who Cursed a Chancellor
What on earth is he doing?
Jeong Ho-chan was watching, wondering what this was about, when the monk suddenly began to chant a sutra.
"The Heart of the Great Prajna Paramita Sutra. Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, in the practice of deep prajna paramita, perceived that the five aggregates were all empty, and crossed beyond every suffering......"
The man had a fine voice, for all that. The sound of chanting punctuated by a wooden clapper could not fail to carry into the straw mourning hut.
With a fit of coughing, someone pushed their head out from within, peering closely.
"Who goes there?"
The one who had poked his head out was none other than Jeong Chang-son.
The monk paid him no mind and only kept chanting. Jeong Chang-son could only stare at him, utterly bewildered.
"Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone wholly beyond—awakening, svaha......"
Only after finishing the sutra did the monk finally stop striking his clapper and press his palms together in reverence.
Jeong Chang-son asked again.
"What brings you, chanting sutras here of all places?"
"I was passing by and saw that you seemed to be keeping the three years' mourning by a tomb, so I came to offer a sutra on your mother's behalf, that is all."
The monk answered with practiced guilelessness. Jeong Chang-son said nothing, caught between bitter and sweet.
Anyone else might be forgiven, but Jeong Chang-son was famous for despising Buddhism down to his marrow, a Confucian through and through. He had once, in the reign of King Sejong, submitted a memorial criticizing the royal court for venerating the Buddha, and had been driven from office for angering the king.
Even so, the man had come all this way expressly to chant for his dead mother, and it seemed he could hardly treat him too roughly.
After a long silence, Jeong Chang-son asked with an air of majesty.
"You came to chant for my mother's soul. Do you know who I am?"
"Of course I do."
"You know who I am, and yet you came anyway...... Hmm! Then recite me a memorial address."
In any other mood, he would have called the fellow "that monk" without so much as a courteous syllable.
The monk cleared his throat a few times, then began to recite in a voice that rumbled low and deep.
"......Behold, your sons rose through the ranks until they attained the Councillorship, and you passed away in your ninety years—how could this be anything but great fortune? And your son, though elevated to the seat of State Councillor, never once forgot, morning or night, to inquire after his mother's health, serving her with the utmost devotion—how could he not be called the most filial son under heaven?"
Jeong Chang-son's expression softened somewhat.
"Continue."
The monk stole a glance at him and went on.
"Yet how could this not also be cause for sorrow! Because of a son who knew filial duty but forgot loyalty and righteousness, you departed this world too soon—and I fear that in the ninefold underworld, the great kings of former reigns may rebuke your soul for the sin of raising your child so badly......"
"Wh-what did you say......?"
Jeong Chang-son's face hardened in an instant. Jeong Ho-chan swallowed hard.
To say such a thing, right to a State Councillor's face!
Even as he reeled in shock, Jeong Ho-chan marveled at the monk's audacity.
Jeong Chang-son, his face gone livid, jabbed a finger at him.
"You wretch—this monk dares...... You must have fallen sick because you're itching to die!"
Undaunted by the outburst, the monk showed not the slightest sign of shrinking.
"Why? Where does my speech go wrong? Entrusted by two sovereigns before you, first with the protection of a royal grandson and then a royal heir, did you not cast the sacred command aside, blind yourself to present glory, aid Suyang's usurpation, and drive loyal ministers and martyrs to their deaths?"
"You—this insolent——"
Jeong Chang-son, struck dumb with outrage, could not finish, and the monk pointed his own finger back at him and began to curse.
"You gray-haired bandit! Even the blackest thief in all the world would watch his tongue during a mother's mourning, but today I will say my piece and be gone. If you are a Confucian who has studied so much as a page of the classics, then surely you know that one who practices filial piety must prize loyalty above all, and that a gentleman, before he honors his parents, must first prove loyal to his sovereign. As a subject, do you not know how great is your crime in deposing the king and hounding loyal ministers to their deaths?"
Jeong Chang-son had gone white now, and could do nothing but tremble. Seeing him so, the monk flashed a grin.
"Yes—having betrayed loyalty, you may as well practice filial piety at least...... otherwise what are you but a beast? How dare you call yourself a scholar-official! If you know shame, then stay hidden in that hut for the rest of your days, and never show your face. If the departed kings visit your dreams tonight, pray their pardon a hundred times for your thousandfold sins. Ai, you filthy creature! How laughable, you performing your solemn mourning as if it were true devotion! May you eat well and prosper long!"
Having spent his venom in one burst, the monk threw back his head and roared with laughter. He left Jeong Chang-son standing half-dead of fright and turned away without a backward glance.
Watching the monk's retreating back, Jeong Ho-chan murmured to himself.
"What a singular man! With that courage and that spirit, he is without a doubt the one I've been searching for."
Jeong Ho-chan hurried after him. Whether the monk knew he was being followed or not, he walked on for a good while before settling himself under the shade of a pine and dropping to the ground with a thud. Then he heaved a long, long sigh.
"Ahh, my chest feels lighter than it has in months. But what difference does cursing one old man make to anything!"
"I beg your pardon! A word, if you please."
"And who might that be?"
When Jeong Ho-chan stepped out and hailed him, the monk looked at him warily.
"I was treated to a rare spectacle just now. Whatever possessed you to carry on like that before Jeong Chang-son himself?"
"Ah—so you did see it. I only cussed out an old man and walked away. What's so remarkable about that?"
The monk nodded, then smirked.
"Jeong Chang-son may be a Councillor in name, but he'll surely set his runners on you to seize you. You've more nerve than sense."
"Well...... a lowly monk couldn't swallow his moment of indignation and the bile in his chest, so he indulged a bit of foolhardiness. If I die, I die—what of it?"
The monk laughed silently. And somehow, that smile carried a thread of desolation through it.
Jeong Ho-chan sat down close beside him.
"What is your dharma name, Master?"
"I haven't yet received one, so I've nothing to be called 'Master' for. To put it plainly, I'm a monk only in robes and shaved head—a fake monk, in truth."
"A fake monk!"
The monk who had so named himself ran a hand over his bristled scalp and laughed. Jeong Ho-chan laughed heartily too.
"For a fake monk, your talent for berating Jeong Chang-son was wonderfully cathartic. That was no common vulgarity—it sounded as though you'd genuinely mastered your letters."
"Book learning? It's all quite useless."
"Useless, you say......?"
"A scholar studies, does he not, to cultivate himself within and to govern the world and aid its people without? But the whole world has turned upside down—subjects drive out their kings, traitors destroy loyal men, and not one soul finds it shameful. It's beyond bearing. Watching all that, I could only think: what is the point of studying the words of the sages? What use is book learning at all? Long ago I burned every book I owned."
"Good heavens."
The monk's words flowed without a hitch, and his bottled indignation rang true. Jeong Ho-chan nodded.
"So I had cast the world aside and washed my hands of it all—but then I heard that Jeong Chang-son was playing at filial piety with this three-year mourning, and I indulged one last bout of foolhardiness. That's all it was."
"Well done, I say. Seeing that old bandit trembling like a leaf left me feeling cleansed myself."
"And yet—what will it accomplish?"
The monk let out another deep sigh.
"Do you imagine a creature like Jeong Chang-son will know shame because of it? He'll wash his ears out and chalk it up to the ravings of a mad monk, if he bothers at all. Only my own mouth aches for nothing."
"Still, that courage of yours is admirable. The world crawls with men who couldn't manage even that much."
"Courage, pah—I'm a man living on because he cannot die."
The monk smiled, a lonely smile.
Jeong Ho-chan quietly resolved to sound him out.
"Well, still—armed with courage like yours, you'd be just the man to help set the realm to rights under a true sovereign. If the world can be turned upside down once, surely it can be turned again."
"All things have come to rest. The true king died long ago, and he left no heir behind him. Now a false king parades about openly—how could the world be turned back?"
"Ha ha, so it is. But tell me—if a true king could be raised up again, what would you do then, old friend?"
"I beg your pardon?"
The monk stared at Jeong Ho-chan, a wild look on his face.
"What—are you mad all of a sudden?"
"Ha ha, surely less mad than the monk who just berated a Left State Councillor to his face."
Jeong Ho-chan gave a hearty laugh. The monk shook his head.
"Mad or not, to speak of raising up a man already dead—this makes no sense at all."
"Who has died?"
"Who else? The true king."
"And you say he is dead?"
Jeong Ho-chan feigned perfect innocence. The monk gave an exasperated, hollow laugh.
"The rumor that he died in Yeongwol—how long ago was that?"
"Rumors can spring from anything. But who, pray, ever confirmed his death?"
"Hah...... you make less sense by the minute. Then are you saying His Highness did not die?"
"If he did not die, then he did not."
The monk regarded Jeong Ho-chan with a long, level stare. At last he spoke, slowly.
"They say a monk who has left the world cannot be beaten at riddle-games—but today, it seems, is the exception. You don't strike me as the sort to trifle idly. Then do you truly believe His Highness still lives? Or do you have some proof that leads you to believe it?"
"He is alive. I don't say it because I choose to believe it—I say it because it is plain fact."
Jeong Ho-chan's voice was firm as iron. The monk studied him for a long moment, then lowered his head. He grumbled under his breath.
"Good grief—what is this? Nothing but a sane man lending his ear to a lunatic's nonsense. And yet, listening closely...... you don't sound as though you're lying."
"That's because I'm not lying—hardly surprising."
"A madman, I suppose, wouldn't believe himself a liar."
Muttering thus, the monk was silent for a long while before he spoke again.
"Let me ask once more. Is it true that His Highness lives?"
"It is."
"Where is he?"
"Could I simply say? To a man who hasn't even given me his name. Call it no dharma name if you like—you're still as good as a man of the world, so let's exchange names properly. I am called Jeong Ho-chan."
"Ho! Just when I'd finally shaken off my attachments to the world."
The monk shook his head slowly.
"Well—very well then. I am Kim Si-seup, a man of the capital."
Jeong Ho-chan's eyes went round as moons.
"So that's it...... you were that Kim Si-seup, my friend."
"You know of me?"
"I've heard those three syllables before. They say a child prodigy made quite a name for himself in Hanyang."
"Ancient history. Nothing but an empty reputation, inflated for nothing."
Kim Si-seup flushed.
"But tell me—why do you claim His Highness lives? I'd like to hear it."
Jeong Ho-chan told Kim Si-seup the whole account. He did not, of course, forget to separate what could be disclosed from what could not. When he had heard everything, Kim Si-seup loosed a long, long sigh.
"Your stratagems, my friend, leave me nothing but admiration. Suyang's faction are no fools either, and yet you spirited His Highness away like that! Beside it, I am ashamed beyond all words. A child prodigy, you said? What prodigy? A wretch who couldn't do more than curse a traitor too shameless to know his own disgrace—what face had I, reviling the ways of the world?"
"Say no such thing. As I told you, the world swarms with men who lack even that courage. And what if you hadn't managed it until now? You need only join in serving His Highness from this day forward, no?"
"That I will! My strength is small, but I'll help with all I have. That the two of us should meet by chance today—this too must be the will of the great compassionate Buddha."
Kim Si-seup clenched his fist.
"How can I help? Tell me what to do."
"There is a great deal to be done. But first......"
Jeong Ho-chan smiled gently.
"I lost my way while traveling to Hanyang, which is how I came upon Jeong Chang-son's mourning hut just now. Might I ask you the road—where I ought to go, and how?"
At that, Kim Si-seup gave an embarrassed smile and glanced around.
"I'll be honest with you. My feelings curdled, and I simply walked wherever my feet took me. Now that you mention it—where am I, exactly?"
A brief silence settled over them. The two men stared blankly at each other, then burst out laughing.
"Well then, it's certain—we'll be roughing it in the mountains tonight."
"For one who's left the world, the sky for a roof and the grass for a bed is quite enough. But what business takes you to Hanyang, my friend?"
"Why, to find men of spirit like you, of course."
"You're searching Hanyang for such people? You'd do better to wait for the Han River to run dry."
Kim Si-seup gave a dismissive snort. Jeong Ho-chan answered with unhurried calm.
"There are two hundred thousand souls in Hanyang. Surely some remain?"
"Perhaps they once existed. But most are long dead or fled, and what's left are hollow straws swaying in the wind. What good are two hundred thousand? Not people—scarecrows, every one."
"To catch a tiger, one must enter the tiger's den. To bring down Suyang, we need men inside Hanyang who know its affairs and can aid us. Isn't it said that the darkest place is right beneath the lamp?"
"That may be—but I don't trust Hanyang people. One slip of the tongue, and you're lucky if all you get is a taste of the State Tribunal instead of a straight march to Saenamteo."
Kim Si-seup passed his judgment with a sneer. Saenamteo was notorious as the execution ground for great criminals—and it was there that Seong Sam-mun and his companions had become lonely ghosts.
"True. But the person I intend to meet is not that kind of person."
"Such a person still remains?"
"She does indeed. Her Majesty the Queen Dowager herself."
"I beg your pardon?"
Jeong Ho-chan nodded. Hong-wi still believed that Song Hyo-bin had died in Yeongwol, and Jeong Ho-chan had deliberately said nothing. If Hong-wi learned she lived, he would surely abandon any thought of staying rooted in the wild lands.
"Her, of course...... naturally."
"Precisely. Above all, we need trustworthy people within the palace. And meeting you just now truly seems the will of heaven! They say Her Majesty is presently at the Jeongeobwon. Now, any great noble house I could enter by posing as a geomancer reading winds and waters—but a temple is another matter."
The Jeongeobwon was a royal temple, established in the early years of Joseon, where noblewomen who had lost their husbands were made to live out their days. Jeong Ho-chan smoothed his horsehair cap with a wry grin.
"I can't very well shave my head for the sake of entry, so I was racking my brains for a scheme—and then, just like that, everything fell into place."
"Ha ha ha! They say even dog droppings serve as medicine—so even this lowly monk has his uses after all."
Kim Si-seup laughed heartily.
"The state suppresses the Buddha's teaching, yet still today the faith holds no small sway over the hearts of noble ladies, village women, and palace maids alike. Even the kings above, in the end, have never managed to abandon it. Meeting a man of purpose like you, my friend—that's an omen of good fortune if ever there was one."
"There is one honest advantage to being a lowly monk, I'll grant you. If a scholar who's read his books lets slip a dangerous word, the magistrates cry treason and conspiracy and turn their eyes inside out. But who troubles himself over what a lowly monk says? As you say, so long as I tap my wooden clapper, people assume I'm merely there to chant for the dead and wave me through their gates. Where in the world could one find an easier ground for plotting treason?"
The two men roared with laughter.
"Come, come—tomorrow's cares are tomorrow's. Today, let's first contrive ourselves a place to sleep for the night."
"Just so."