–wouldn’t you say? When he is gentle, he is endlessly gentle, but when he is resolute, he is endlessly resolute.”
Yuyeong was doing his best to dress it up nicely, but the heart of his words was that both the Emperor and Prince Igun were weak-spirited compared to the Empress and the Crown Prince. And that “resolute” business…
“I’ve heard often enough that His Majesty never reverses a decision once made — I know that well. But as for Prince Igun’s resolute side, I’ve never seen it myself, so I can’t say.” Huian said honestly.
“Are there really times when he’s resolute?” When he asked, genuinely curious, Yuyeong nodded. “Of course.”
“It has been years now that Her Majesty the Empress has been thundering that if he goes bird-hunting one more time, she’ll no longer treat him as her child. And yet Prince Igun still goes out to see his birds, doesn’t he. From this alone, can’t you see how resolute he is in what he sets out to do?” At Yuyeong’s shameless words, Huian laughed. “What’s that supposed to be?”
But thinking it over again, he had to admit Yuyeong’s words had a point. Not that he knew for certain, but with the Empress’s personality, she must have carried on with “either you die or this mother dies” — and yet, seeing him go out so doggedly to catch birds regardless, he was clearly made of no ordinary mettle.
“But why doesn’t he show that side in front of others?” he asked, not understanding, and Yuyeong set down his teacup and said:
“As a child, it was quite the opposite — toward others he was endlessly decisive and resolute. Among the eight princes, his spirit was the greatest. Why wouldn’t it be? He was the Son of Heaven’s own son, with Chief State Councillor Jo as his maternal uncle. And he was Her Majesty the Empress’s only true-born son.” Yuyeong’s point being that he must have feared nothing under heaven. They said even Crown Prince Isin couldn’t treat the second prince carelessly.
But even the second prince had one opponent he alone feared. To the young boy, a being more dreadful and terrifying than the Son of Heaven himself — his own mother.
“When lessons ended, the other princes would all go off to play together, but Prince Igun alone would head straight for Jangwonnyeong Palace. There, I understand, he would study late into the night again with scholars Her Majesty the Empress had personally summoned, learning composition and holding debates. And Her Majesty the Empress would watch it all right beside him.”
“I see,” Huian thought. She must have wanted to show the Emperor that her son was more outstanding than Crown Prince Isin. Indeed, they said the various tutors who taught the princes at the time, when the Emperor asked which of his sons was the most outstanding, all answered as one: “All the princes are outstanding, but of them, the second prince’s talent is the greatest.”
But unfortunately, the moment of joy did not last long. At some point, those who said “The second prince is very outstanding, but the third prince’s talent is no less” grew one by one, until in the year the two turned ten and nine side by side, all the tutors came to praise the third prince with one voice: “The third prince is a heaven-sent prodigy — a divine child who may come into the world once in a thousand years.”
The second prince’s studying, which had continued late into the night until then, eventually stretched past midnight into dawn. They say the Empress, who watched it all without sleeping herself, would take up the switch herself and strike her son without mercy if he so much as stammered. But no matter how he memorized his texts sleeplessly under the switch, it was the third prince who received the tutors’ praise in the next day’s lessons. Hearing the stories, the Empress kept the second prince up studying even later, and the second prince, tormented all night, could concentrate in lessons even less for drowsiness.
Inevitably the gap between the two princes widened further, and the second prince shrank all the more. He was always cowed, careful even to address a word to anyone. He developed a stammer when nervous, and his face reddened easily. Before the Empress, who kept him from sleep to practice reading and speaking, insisting the habit had to be fixed, he finally threw his book down and ran outside. That was when it began — staying away from the palace for days, roaming mountains and fields, going out only to catch birds.
“He always did love birds. Even as a child, he’d stare entranced at birds in flight for a long while. At his coming-of-age ceremony, an envoy from Sao presented two precious hawks, and you can’t imagine how diligently he trained them. Within half a year they were beyond even the capital’s famed falconers — that says it all.”
At “two hawks,” something suddenly came to mind. Huian asked, even as he thought “it can’t be”:
“Could one of those two be Jin?”
“Indeed. They were brother hawks, and the younger is Jin. The elder was named Noesin — the very hawk Prince Igun had with him a moment ago.”
“I see…” Huian was quite surprised. Given the various circumstances, he’d assumed the brothers’ relationship must naturally be terrible. But that they would readily give each other such precious hawks as gifts — as he marveled at whether their brotherly bond was unexpectedly deep, Yuyeong spoke as if reading his mind:
“The two brothers got along very well. Since His Highness Isin, as His Majesty’s eldest legitimate son, was invested as crown prince early and often studied and attended rites separately, the next two eldest couldn’t help being the closest. They even studied together at times.”
“But when Prince Igun married at sixteen and left the palace for his own residence, the two brothers inevitably drifted apart. Still, their friendship remained good, and they would occasionally go hawking together with their hawks, and in summer go to the Habuk region to escape the heat.”
“But even that became rare after His Highness was invested as crown prince… It can’t be helped. His Highness was busy with official duties day and night, and Prince Igun rarely entered the palace except for imperial events he had to attend.”
Yuyeong said so, but Huian thought differently. They were two people who could have met somehow if they’d wanted to. That they deliberately did not meant, in the end, that they hadn’t wanted to. Having the crown prince’s seat taken by his younger brother — not even his elder — Prince Igun’s heart couldn’t be entirely at ease. It was understandable enough that he felt no urge to blame him.
And seeing them maintain the relationship to this degree despite such circumstances, Huian thought them fairly harmonious brothers. At least compared to his own.
It was late in the second watch when Igang arrived at the palace. As always, he entered through the palace’s rear gate nearest the East Palace and headed straight for Gihyeon Palace. Yuyeong and Eunuch Song, who had been waiting on his word, ran out past the main gate to greet him.
“Your Highness, your safe return — this old servant’s joy knows no bounds.” Beside Eunuch Song, who fussed, even pretending to dab at tears, Yuyeong spoke, unable to hide his excitement: “What does ‘caught an unexpected big fish’ mean? I’ve barely slept for curiosity since the message.”
“Your face looks too fine for that.” Igang entered the gate, smiling. “At the thought of finally seeing Your Highness today, this subject’s heart was so full of joy that I was excited and fluttery from the morning, full without eating — it seems that happy heart shows right on my face.” Yuyeong followed him in, answering shamelessly.
“Goodness, your tongue’s only gotten oilier in the time we haven’t seen each other.” To Ichi, who clicked his tongue in disbelief, Yuyeong shot back with a smile: “You’ve only gotten smaller in the time we haven’t seen each other, Ichi.” Then he said to Igang again: “Is it about Chief State Councillor Jo?”
“Likely.” Answering briefly, Igang headed for the main hall. Entering the innermost study, he unfastened the quiver strapped at his waist, handed it to Yuyeong, and said: “It’s not Giju that’s the problem. It’s not certain, but I think at least eight of the fourteen counties under Hoenam are doing the same thing.”
“Is that… true?” Yuyeong couldn’t hide his horror. He’d known it would be big, it being a “big fish,” but he hadn’t expected it to be this big. After thinking a long while with a stiff face, he soon heaved a heavy sigh and said: “Well… I don’t know whether to be happy or sad.”
Igang thought he understood Yuyeong’s feelings. His own had been exactly that when he’d learned the truth.
But: “Of course we should be happy.” Igang said with a forced smile. Putting his feet up on the book-piled low table and untying the silk cord binding his trouser hems, he went on in a casual tone: “It’s been going on for a long time; what use is lamenting the past now? All we can do is watch the provincial offices more strictly from here on. Thanks to this, we can choke the Jo clan’s windpipe — now is the time to be happy.” Yuyeong nodded as if it were true.
“Then, is it still only at the stage of speculation?” “Yes. Time to start digging.” When he said he’d first summon Gwangpyeong and interrogate him, Yuyeong tilted his head. “Gwangpyeong — isn’t he the one in charge of the Yanggang waterworks?” “He should have been in Yangju — why didn’t you get a confession out of him there first?”
“Oh, don’t get me started.” Ichi jumped in quickly with a sigh. “As you’d expect from Jo’s pack, he was stubborn beyond words. We held him and pressed him for three days and nights, and he kept his mouth shut like a clam, wouldn’t you know. Still, by the third day he was flagging, mumbling dazedly — I thought a little more squeezing and he’d spill on his own — but then His Highness said it was time we departed.” Ichi kept sighing, clearly disappointed at not having gotten the confession. Yuyeong, also looking puzzled, said to Igang: “Is there a reason you hurried back? You arrived a day earlier than planned, so I naturally assumed things had gone smoothly and you’d come back quickly because there was no reason to linger…”
“You’re right that I came back because there was no reason to linger.” Igang tossed the untied silk cord carelessly into a corner of the room. “But Gwangpyeong–” “Gwangpyeong must be summoned formally, with His Majesty’s permission. Badgering a confession out of him there would only give Chief State Councillor Jo ammunition.” “Didn’t you say so yourself, Yuyeong.” Igang took his feet down from the low table. “That if any unlawful act occurred in the course of investigating Chief State Councillor Jo, His Majesty might instead reprimand me.” “Ah… yes. I did say that.” “Yes, that’s right.” Yuyeong nodded vigorously. “A wise decision. It’s best to follow proper procedure in everything and handle it with His Majesty’s approval.” “Right.” Igang smiled, then took off his outer garment and asked: “So — anything unusual in the palace?” “No, quiet. Chief State Councillor Jo and the Empress both.” “And the crown princess?” Yuyeong’s eyes widened. “Huh?” It was the first time he’d been asked about anyone outside the Jo clan, so he looked briefly flustered. “His Highness… has stayed in Inyeong Palace the whole time. Only reading books all day, or briefly greeting the occasional visitor. Nothing long.”
As Igang handed his removed outer garment to Ichi, he involuntarily asked “What?” at Yuyeong’s words: “Oh — he’s been teaching the zither to Son Gwi-in.”
“The crown princess is teaching the zither to Son Gwi-in?”
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