The One Who Guards, The One Who Seizes (2)

Jin Myeong, who only a moment before had asked with a face of cold fury whether he should demonstrate the way of the bow, dropped without warning to one knee before Princess Ju Jeong-won. He met the ten-year-old girl's eyes.

"Your Highness, it has been some time since this humble servant last told you a tale. Allow me to tell you another."

"A tale?"

Princess Ju Jeong-won's eyes went round. Jin Myeong often spun her myths and folk ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stories, and the material was always so strange that he never failed to draw her in.

"Gang Su. Bring the horn bow."

"Yes, Gonggong!"

Having given the order, Jin Myeong turned back to the princess and began.

"Fifteen hundred years ago, a man named Haemosu and a woman named Yuhwa fell in love and married in secret, without their parents' knowledge."

Zhu Zhanji and Zhu Zhanhe, watching this unfold, cocked their heads. It was absurd. He had promised to show them the way of the bow, and now he was launching into some old story with neither head nor tail. Still, they decided to listen. Jin Myeong's bearing was far too composed for this to be empty theater. Could a eunuch actually know how to handle a bow?

"Fifteen hundred years ago?"

"Just so, Your Highness. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The Central Plains were in the age of the Han."

"And then? They married without their parents knowing?"

Princess Ju Jeong-won, free of any such distraction, slipped into the story at once.

"They had married without their parents' blessing — so how could those parents simply let it pass? Her father flew into a rage and drove Yuhwa from the house."

"Indeed. Marriage is a great human rite, to be performed with the heavens consulted and the hour chosen and every ceremony observed. And yet I have heard that the affections of the heart do not obey anyone's will. Yuhwa's plight is pitiable. What became of her then?"

The sight of a ten-year-old girl clasping her hands behind her back and nodding like a fully grown adult was thoroughly endearing.

"She wandered the world until she took refuge with the king of a country called Eastern Buyeo. And that, Your Highness, is where the trouble began."

"Trouble?"

"Yuhwa, who was with child, laid an egg. Not a baby. An egg."

"Good heavens! She laid an egg? How scandalous! And then? And then?"

Startled, Princess Ju Jeong-won clapped both palms over her eyes.

"A human being had laid an egg — how could that not be taken as an ill omen? The king seized Yuhwa's egg and ordered it smashed."

"Hmph! The king's treatment was cruel. Was it not her offspring all the same?"

"Just so, Your Highness."

"He might at least have waited to see how the matter turned out. Was that not a contempt for life itself?"

"Truly, Your Highness's virtue runs deep."

Jin Myeong's gaze warmed like spring sunlight. Young as she was, Princess Ju Jeong-won had a clear sense of right and a will of her own, and he found it admirable. She had been born with the looks and the temperament that palace eunuchs could not help but cherish.

"And after that? Anyone could see that Yuhwa, having lost her egg, would have been heartbroken."

"The egg did not break, Your Highness."

"It did not break?"

"No matter what they did, the egg would not break — and before long, a baby boy emerged from it."

"Really? Scandalous, scandalous! And yet marvelous. What was the child's name? He must have become someone extraordinary."

Startled all over ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠again in that charming way of hers, the princess asked.

"The child's name was Jumong, and he was the founding ancestor of Goguryeo — a kingdom whose fame once shook even the Central Plains."

"Goguryeo! I have heard of it. Father once said that among the countries of the Eastern Yi, none ever flourished so greatly. How interesting. But why are you telling this story now?"

That question cut straight to the heart of the matter. Why, in the middle of all this, was he spinning such a tale?

Jin Myeong smiled, as if pleased with her, and gave a small nod.

"If one is to speak of the way of the bow and name the greatest archer of all time, it must be him. And the bow Gang Su is bringing has everything to do with that man."

"Jumong?"

"Yes, Your Highness. From the age of seven, Jumong made his own bows and arrows and loosed them — and he never missed. Not once. That is why people called him Jumong, which means 'the one who shoots well.'"

"Seven years old? Only seven? How astonishing."

"In all of history, Jumong is the only man to have reached the Transcendent Realm through the way of the bow."

At that moment Gang Su and So Hye returned, laden with the bow, the string, wooden arrows, and a quiver. Every eye gathered on them as Jin Myeong took up the bow. It was a black horn bow of the very highest grade, dark from end to end.

"This bow was made by Jumong's descendants, and among all the bows under heaven it may be called the finest of its kind. Had His Highness the Imperial Grandson taken up this bow, the outcome of the match would have been different."

Jin Myeong was still explaining when Zhu Zhanhe cut in with a snort of laughter.

"Hmph! A horn bow? It couldn't send an arrow half a li if it tried!"

The Jumong legend was new even to him, but it did not sound like a story invented on the spot. The problem was that Jin Myeong had called this black horn bow the finest under heaven. The pride of Zhonghua was at stake. How could some barbarian-made bow be named the greatest in the world?

"That is not so. This is the work of a master craftsman of Joseon. It will send an arrow nearly a full li. It is light, and yet its draw is exceedingly strong."

"A horn bow that shoots a full li? Nonsense!"

Zhu Zhanhe, whose knowledge did not reach so far, refused to believe it. The Central Plains had horn bows of their own, but their range was about half a li. A bow made not of steel but of animal horn, flinging an arrow a full li? Twice as far?

"As you can see, Joseon's horn bow is curved far more deeply than those of the Central Plains. The arrows this bow loosed broke the hundreds of thousands of Emperor Wen and Emperor Yang of Sui — and cost Emperor Taizong of Tang, Li Shimin, an eye."

Jin Myeong held up the black horn bow with an air of complete indifference. Just as he had said, the unstrung bow was coiled nearly into a circle, its two tips almost touching. The Central Plains bows were not like that.

"So they are. I have never seen one like this."

Zhu Zhanji's eyes lit up. When Gang Su had first offered it, the difference had not registered — but after the explanation, it was unmistakable.

"Gang Su would have recommended this bow to Your Highness."

"…He did."

Zhu Zhanji glanced at Gang Su and answered as if conceding the point. He looked deflated, as though the weight of his own mistake had finally settled on him.

"Because this humble servant ordered him to. Had Your Highness taken up this bow, the outcome of the contest would have been different."

The power of a Joseon horn bow would have been more than enough. There was no need to chase anything heavier or stronger.

From time immemorial, a member of the imperial clan has never lost a thing by listening to a eunuch, you fool.

Jin Myeong regarded Zhu Zhanji steadily — the young man who had realized his error and gone quiet with it.

If your grandfather hadn't listened to the eunuchs, look. Seventeen years ago the Jianwen Emperor would have taken his head clean off. All that fuss over an iron bow the size of a regulation bow, just to nurse a pride that isn't worth a single copper. This road or that road, you only needed to get to Yingtianfu. Winning is all that matters.

"So what you're saying is —"

Zhu Zhanhe cut in again. At last ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he had found his opening, and the look on his face was one of deep satisfaction.

"You bring that bow here, rattling on about showing us the way of the bow — and what I hear is that you mean to enlighten me and His Highness the Imperial Grandson with it. Am I wrong?"

This bear-faced bastard's ears work just fine, I'll give him that.

Jin Myeong found it almost funny, the way Zhu Zhanhe was trying to snag his words and set a trap. But there was no chance Jin Myeong would walk into it. He had eaten thirty-three years of a eunuch's rice.

"This humble servant merely wished to convey that strength is not the whole of archery."

It was obvious what Zhu Zhanhe intended. The moment he had an excuse, he would spread it around that a eunuch had presumed to lecture princes.

"That tongue of yours is so sly, it must be how you got that hat on your head in the first place. Fine. Then will you wager with me? I hear you eunuchs are fond of a bet."

Zhu Zhanhe did not care in the slightest. Horn bow or no horn bow — what mattered were the words. Shall I show you the way of the bow. Had it been this bow, the outcome would have been different. Words tailor-made for picking a fight and finding fault.

So you're Zhu Zhanji's man?

From the way he had stepped in to shield Zhu Zhanji, calling him family, there could be no doubt. And he had cut in at the most exquisite moment, just when things were going well.

Then I'll have to break you.

Anything connected to Zhu Zhanji — smash it, ruin it, and be done. This fellow looked about the same age as they were, yet he wore a Rank Five Supervisor's hat and a Touhou Robe besides, so he had clearly had more than his share of luck. He was tall for his years, and with that striking face and that practiced tongue, it was no wonder the women of the palace doted on him. If he had the Crown Princess's affection, a Supervisor's post and a Touhou Robe would not have been so hard to come by. But in the end he was still a eunuch. Still a castrate. And this side of the wager was a royal heir.

"Wagers are nothing more than a small amusement among inner-court servants. How could a lowly castrate dare to bet against the Heir of the Prince of Han? I beg you to withdraw the suggestion."

Jin Myeong's mouth twitched as he answered; he was fighting not to smile. A wager? He would have welcomed it with both hands. If the other man was going to come out like this, Jin Myeong could only be grateful. What kind of life was a eunuch's without a wager? The stakes were all or nothing — and for a prince, "all" was nothing other than dignity. Today he would tear that dignity to shreds.

"At least you know you're lowly. You know your place. You're fit to sit in a Supervisor's chair."

"How could it be otherwise?"

"Spare me the chatter and step up. If you used that three-inch tongue of yours to hold forth on the way of the bow and insult me and His Highness the Imperial Grandson, then you'll put your neck on the line."

Zhu Zhanhe's true intent was out in the open now; his pupils gleamed. To break a castrate was to break Zhu Zhanji's dignity along with him.

"Zhanhe. Supervisor Jang's intent and his words have not departed from propriety. You go too far. Watch your tongue."

Zhu Zhanji stepped in and cut him off. The situation was veering somewhere ugly.

You think I don't know that snake's heart of yours?

A wager, over a matter this small? And a neck, no less? This was exactly how one fell into the savage temper and methods of Zhu Gaoxu's household.

"Supervisor Jang, you withdraw as well. I know your loyalty. Let today's practice end here."

"Your Highness the Imperial Grandson! How can you say so? A mere eunuch swaggered before princes, going on about showing them the way of the bow —"

"Enough! Did I not tell you to stop?"

That was when it came.

"The Heir of the Prince of Han is right."

A heavy voice rolled in from the entrance.

Clip. Clop. Clip.

The man seated on a horse whose mane was as white as the snow piled all around them.

A menace that seemed to well up from the deepest part of the chest. The speaker was the Yongle Emperor. Behind him came Zhu Gaoxu, Prince of Han, his face bright with satisfaction, and Zhu Gaochi, whose expression was tight with worry.

A master of transcendent inner power, the Yongle Emperor had heard the three of them talking before he even stepped through the entrance.

Startled by the Yongle Emperor's appearance, everyone present dropped to the ground and raised the hail.

"Rise."

"Your Imperial Grace is boundless."

"Heir of the Prince of Han."

Having brought them to their feet, the Yongle Emperor called Zhu Zhanhe by name. The voice was directed at Zhu Zhanhe, but the eyes were taking in the scene. The iron bows in his grandsons' hands. Zhu Zhanji's right hand, wrapped in a cloth stained red with blood. The horn bow Jin Myeong was holding. The conversation he had just overheard. A single glance was enough to grasp what had happened. He need only fill in the parts he had not heard.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"I will hear it."

The ranking person present was the Imperial Grandson, Zhu Zhanji — and yet the Emperor had chosen Zhu Zhanhe to give the account. Jin Myeong was Zhu Zhanji's man, so Zhu Zhanji would of course speak in his defense. It was also the habit of a nature that refused to openly favor any one of them. A temperament that checked his own sons even as he set those sons to check one another. It was a quality Zhu Di had learned from Yi Seong-gye, the father of Yi Bang-won, King Taejong of Joseon, with whom he had long been close. And why were Zhu Di and Yi Bang-won so close? Their natures were alike — and, decisively, both men had climbed onto the throne through rebellion. Zhu Di through the Jingnan Campaign. Yi Bang-won through the Strife of the Princes.

"His Highness the Imperial Grandson and I were at archery practice, when…"

Zhu Zhanhe reported everything that had happened in careful detail. His grandfather might keep eunuchs close, but no one was more sensitive to imperial authority and the dignity of the imperial clan.

"From what I have heard, there is no great breach of propriety."

"…Your Majesty?"

When words other than the ones he had expected came from the Yongle Emperor's mouth, Zhu Zhanhe faltered — and then the reversal came.

"But it is arrogant. It did not greatly depart from the rites, yet it is clear he presumed to instruct princes. It is as if I am looking at those cunning old Grand Directors."

Zhu Zhanhe's face brightened at once.

"But Your Majesty —!"

"Imperial Grandson."

Sensing something ominous in his grandfather's manner, Zhu Zhanji made to step forward — and met his father's eyes. Zhu Gaochi shook his head. Do not intervene. Zhu Zhanji fell back, and the Yongle Emperor let it pass without comment.

"Your merits in days past were great, but merit is merit. Fault is fault."

Zhu Di turned his gaze on Jin Myeong once more.

"You placed yourself, by implication, above princes. Neither the Cheonyang Biyeon nor the Touhou Robe can make that permissible. As the Heir of the Prince of Han has said — if you spoke idle words, your head will hang in the marketplace."

"Your Majesty. This humble grandson's practice is not yet finished. This humble grandson will compete with the inner-court official. Grant your permission, I beg you."

"Granted."

The Yongle Emperor and Zhu Zhanhe fell into step as if they had rehearsed it. For Zhu Zhanhe, the Emperor's arrival was a windfall. Here, before his grandfather, his father, and the Crown Prince, was the perfect chance to smash Zhu Zhanji's pride to pieces. Disposing of an insolent eunuch was a bonus.

I'll finish this. Heh heh.

Zhu Zhanhe was still congratulating himself when, in that very instant —

In whose presence did he dare? Jin Myeong's words, spoken as if he had lost all fear, left every mouth in the gathering hanging open.