A Frenzied Dance Under the Flowers

Author: Kim Dong-in
From: Dong-in's Historical Tales Collection 2

Chancellor Lee has hurriedly returned from Haeju.

On the night he heard this news, Jeong Mong-ju could not fall into a peaceful sleep.

Why did he return so hastily?

Chancellor Lee, who had traveled all the way to Haeju to greet the prince returning from a diplomatic mission to the Ming Dynasty, had injured his leg falling from his horse while casually hunting to pass the time. It would have been natural for him to rest in Haeju for a few days to let the pain subside before returning. Yet, Chancellor Lee had hastily rushed back to the royal capital. From this, Mong-ju intuited an extraordinary danger closing in on him.

It was the confrontation of two great powers the standoff between Chancellor Lee's faction and Mong-ju's own. In other words, a clash between the forces of rebellion and the forces of patriotism.

Carrying the fate of a declining nation solely on his old shoulders, Mong-ju exhausted himself trying to right the falling national destiny. This stood in direct opposition to Chancellor Lee's movement to tear down the failing nation and build a new one. As these two movements gradually became explicit and fierce, Mong-ju forgot to eat and sleep. He forgot all other matters. He spent every ounce of his strength to somehow recover the nation's waning fortunes.

Because Chancellor Lee's power was growing too strong, Mong-ju had used the opportunity of the Chancellor's trip to Haeju to swiftly distance Lee's core confidants Nam Eun and Jeong Do-jeon from the court. He was further plotting to somehow dispose of the Chancellor himself. It was at this critical juncture that the Chancellor hurriedly returned.

The reason for the Chancellor's urgent return was his fifth son, Bang-won, who served as the chief strategist for the Lee faction. Bang-won had ridden through the night to Haeju to escort his father back. The day Bang-won departed was the very day Jeong Do-jeon and Nam Eun were exiled from the court. Judging from this, the reason for the Chancellor's hasty return was obvious.

The two factions, which had hitherto been secretly maneuvering to break each other's power, had finally come into a head-on collision. Now, there was no need for mutual secret plotting. Since Chancellor Lee had returned, he would naturally confront Mong-ju with the military might he commanded. Thus far, they had made numerous efforts to pull Mong-ju into their rebellious faction, but from now on, they would clash with him directly in the open.

Mong-ju had no regrets about sacrificing his old body for the country. However, if he alone were to die, this nation would extinguish like a lamp devoid of oil. This country, which had been handed down unbroken for nearly five hundred years since the days of King Taejo Wang Geon, would vanish completely. This was, above all, the most terrifying thought for Mong-ju.

April, the 4th year of King Gongyang.

In the royal capital, spring had ripened, and the distant mountains appeared to take on a slight purple hue. However, spring had not reached the hearts of the commoners, who were bewildered by the dark undercurrents in the court. It was a gloomy, dark spring.

"Is it not a desolate spring?"
"It is a cold spring, my lord."

Under the pretext of visiting the sick, Mong-ju sought out Chancellor Lee. Without a formal procession, trailing only a single Noksa (a low-ranking clerk) behind him, he walked the gloomy spring path to the Chancellor's estate.

The visages of the three successive kings he had served flashed through Mong-ju's mind:

King Gongmin, who lived a lonely life after losing his beloved Queen, Princess Noguk, and was assassinated by his favored subjects.
King U, who was banished to Ganghwa under a false accusation and suffered a tragic death.
King Chang, his son, who also met a disastrous end because of Chancellor Lee.

The exceedingly kind and benevolent faces of these past three kings, who all met unpropitious ends, appeared in the spring sky, disturbing Mong-ju's heart. Wild geese flying north drew a long line across the sky. A lonely spring day. A gloomy spring day.

"How is your illness?" asked Mong-ju.
"It seems not to be too severe," replied Chancellor Lee Seong-gye.

The man who was about to strike the very man they were just discussing how to dispose of had come visiting under the guise of inquiring after his health. His scholarship, his insight, his character Mong-ju was a paragon of his time, respected by all. If only they could draw him into their faction, there would be no better strategy.

When they had previously hinted at drawing Mong-ju into their fold, Mong-ju had responded:

Though this frame should die and die, though I die a hundred times,
My bleached bones turning to dust, my very soul existing or not
My steadfast heart toward my Lord, how could it ever fade?

With this single poem, he illuminated his unchanging loyalty to the Wang dynasty. This Mong-ju, with his unwavering loyalty, was a tremendous obstacle for the Lee faction. If they left him alone, even though he lacked military power, his status as a universally respected chancellor meant the dynasty would not waver during his lifetime.

To eliminate Mong-ju...

"Because the people's hearts have left the Wangs and come to Chancellor Lee..." This was the decent-sounding pretext Chancellor Lee was trying to fabricate to justify abolishing the Wang dynasty and becoming king. Hearing the blunt label of "traitor" was disgusting to him. Thus, right when they were repeatedly discussing what to do about this troublesome existence, Mong-ju had barged into the house.

The Chancellor was relatively unperturbed. Thanks to his advanced age and experience, he hid his inner dismay and welcomed Mong-ju. However, his fifth son, Bang-won, was clearly flustered.

"It is a blessing from heaven that your injury is not severe. As you are no longer young, I was worried..." Mong-ju said.
"I thank you."

A few words of greeting were exchanged. Eventually, Mong-ju lifted his eyes. At fifty-six, he was not incredibly old, but carrying the immense fate of the country on his shoulders had taken its toll; around his eyes, he already looked well past sixty.

"By the way, Your Excellency."
"Yes?"
"You must have heard that Jo Jun, Nam Eun, Jeong Do-jeon, and a few others were recently distanced from the court?"

Of course he had heard. He had heard, and that was exactly why he had rushed to the capital through the night.

"I suppose I have."
"If Your Excellency had been in the capital, it would naturally have been a matter to settle after consulting with you. But you were far away and there was no one to consult with... I struggled with it alone," Mong-ju continued.

"......?"

"Furthermore, those are all people Your Excellency trusted. If the matter hadn't been urgent, I would have sent a messenger to consult you. But the matter was pressing, and since Your Excellency is also a pillar of Goryeo, I assumed you would not blame me much if our hearts were united for the country. So I handled it on my own judgment. What are your thoughts on this?"

It was a difficult question. The Chancellor didn't want to say it was well done. Yet, since Mong-ju framed it under "loyalty to Goryeo," he couldn't openly criticize it either. After a moment, the Chancellor offered only one vaguely meaningful remark:
"I suppose so."

Mong-ju saw ominous signs. While he was talking with the Chancellor, Bang-won went in and out several times. Excited whispering could be heard from outside. He also caught an ominous exchange of glances between Bang-won and his father. It was clear that a sinister plan was underway.

Would he be able to walk out and return home safely?

"You go on ahead," Mong-ju ordered his Noksa as they stepped out of the Chancellor's house.
But the Noksa refused to listen. "I will escort you."
"I have somewhere to stop by alone. Go on ahead."
"No, my lord. If you have somewhere to stop, your servant shall accompany you there."

The gloomy spring streets. With a strange feeling as if their moods were at odds, Mong-ju walked ahead and the Noksa followed behind, heading back toward Mong-ju's house. Suddenly, Mong-ju, who had been walking in silence, stopped in front of a house. It belonged to a drinking companion he knew.

"Are they not beautiful flowers?"
"They are beautiful flowers, my lord."

Beautiful. Yet they were flowers that did not know when they would fall. Desolate flowers. A desolate spring. Mong-ju went into the house first, and the Noksa followed.

"Bring wine..."

Spreading a mat under the flowers, facing the wine table. One cup, two cups, three cups. Wine gulped down under the blooming flowers of a spring day but it was a desolate wine.

"Hey!" Mong-ju called to the Noksa.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Watch me dance. It is my final dance. Look closely."
"Pardon? Your Excellency, what do you mean by that?"
"A person is born, but no one knows when they will die. A final dance watch it well."

Mong-ju stood up. Under the flowers, the sleeves and skirts of his robe fluttered wildly. One tune, two tunes.

"Now, pour it into the large bowl."
Gulped wine. Fluttering sleeves.
"The wind is ferocious today. Now, pour it into the large bowl."

While drinking continuously and dancing frenziedly, tears flowed endlessly from the corners of Mong-ju's old eyes. He was not afraid to die. However, if he alone disappeared, there would be no one to uphold the sovereignty of Goryeo. The three kings he had already sent off...

"Your Majesties. Your Majesties."
While dancing wildly under the flowers, Mong-ju cried out in his heart over and over.

Leaving the house, the master and servant reached Seonjigyo Bridge.

Thwack!

Mong-ju, who had collapsed, raised his body. Around him, four or five stout men wielding iron maces and swords had already surrounded him. Blood gushed from Mong-ju's head.

"Hold!"
When a second iron mace was about to come down on him, Mong-ju shouted like a thunderbolt. As the assailants paused at this roar, Mong-ju brushed the dust from his clothes, faced north, and knelt down, bowing deeply.

"Your Majesty, I am going. Your subject is going first. If I go, who will uphold Your Majesty? Please have pity. Please have pity."

Having bidden farewell to the current King, Mong-ju turned and sat facing the direction of the royal shrine Jongmyo to offer his final farewell to the three departed kings King Gongmin, King U, and King Chang.

"Your subject is also going to the country where Your Majesties reside. Since there is no one left to preserve the sovereignty of Goryeo that Your Majesties burdened me with, your subject is going to your country still carrying it. Please take it back. The sovereignty that could not be preserved in this world may you preserve it forever in the next. Your subject is coming to Your Majesties."

Tears flowed endlessly from his old eyes. Mong-ju stood up.
"Traitors, do as you please." It was a quiet command.

"Your Excellency!" The Noksa, who had been standing behind, suddenly threw himself toward Mong-ju.
At that exact moment, a warrior's sword came down forcefully.
The next moment, the bodies of the master and servant were torn to pieces, staining the stone bridge of Seonjigyo red.

Mong-ju was fifty-six. Unfortunately, the name of the faithful Noksa who died alongside him was missed by historians and has not been passed down.

For five hundred years since, though that stone has been washed and washed again by harsh rain and cold snow, the trace of the blood shed by Mong-ju and his servant still remains distinctly, forever mourning his loyal soul.

Published in Jungang, December 1933

License Information:
This work is in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or fewer, as the author has been dead for over 70 years. Content is available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.

...

For over five centuries... harsh rain and cold snow have washed over the cold stones of the Seon-ji-gyo bridge.

Yet, the memory of Jeong Mong-ju... and his nameless, faithful servant... remains forever etched in history. They were beautiful, desolate flowers... that fell far too soon.

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Until our next journey into the past... sleep well.