Chapter IX

On leaving the Capital, San-Syeng had a three-fold mission in view: to make certain of the faithful execution of the King’s commands, to find his parents, and to rejoin his wife. The young man did not make light of the difficulties that lay before him, but he resolved to bend all his efforts toward accomplishing his heart’s desires. He was optimistic and cherished the brightest hopes of having his wishes crowned with success.

His adorable Yeng-So-Yei obviously had the first claim to his attention, and he set out with haste to see her. When but a short distance from the town of Yen-Yu where his wife dwelt, the new General learned that the place had been given over to revolt and pillage. San-Syeng immediately mobilized the royal troops from the neighboring towns and order was restored in a few days. The Mandarin, whose exactions had been the primary cause of the revolt, was arrested and sent to the Capital together with the ring-leaders in the disturbance.

This task accomplished, San-Syeng made pleasant preparations to surprise Yeng-So-Yei by his home-coming. Alas the house where he expected to find his beautiful little wife had been burned to the ground, as if blasted by a dragon’s fiery breath. He could not master his sorrow and burst into sobs. His orderly, who accompanied him, endeavored to console him, but in vain, and was at last obliged to lead his master away from the heap of charred embers and ashes. He learned that Yeng-So-Yei’s mother was dead and that the orphan, when the fire broke out, had fled and no one could tell whither she had gone.

San-Syeng naturally determined to travel in search of his wife, but his body was tired and weary and he resolved to indulge in the luxury of a short nap before leaving the town. During his slumbers, San-Houni appeared before him for the third time, saying:

“My poor child! You are looking for your parents and you are unable to find them. It is now time to tell you that I am your father. In the olden days I enjoyed a great deal of influence at the Court, but my enemy, Ja-Jo-Mi, had me sent into exile, with my best friend, Sun-Yen. I was murdered by Su-Rung whom I hired to take me to Ko-Kum-To. As for your mother and your wife, you will find them at San-Jon. A cruel Mandarin has condemned them to death. Hurry to their rescue; the slightest delay may be fatal.”

San-Syeng awoke with a start, shook himself and started on his journey. Presently he reached the town referred to in his dream. He was not long in learning that his mother and his wife, unjustly accused of theft, were in a prison cell and were to be put to death the very next morning.

The young man ran to the prison where, of course, he found it impossible to enter, so he had recourse to a wise little trick. He entered a merchant’s shop near by, threw his robe over a random object and dashed out of the doorway. He was soon caught, arrested, and thrown into prison.

Before employing this ruse, San-Syeng had ordered his servant to come early the next day with his master’s horse and take his place before the prison gates.

The room into which the young man was thrust after his arrest was very dark and small. Several persons were already occupying it but it was too dark to distinguish any of them clearly. He joined one of the inmates in a loud protest for some light--the inevitable result of which would be to bring the jailer, who indeed did come running to see what their outcries portended. He stepped between the two men to quiet them.

“I shall report you to the Mandarin,” he declared, turning to San-Houni’s son. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“San-Syeng.”

Yeng-So-Yei and Yeng-Si were naturally very much surprised at hearing this name. They whispered to each other:

“That’s my son’s name, sure enough,” said Yeng-Si, “but it cannot possibly be he for he is no thief.”

The night passed without San-Syeng being recognized by the two women. At daybreak, they were startled by the loud neighing of a horse and Yeng-So-Yei, who had gone to the narrow opening which served as a window to their cell, cried:

“Mother, come here. That horse which has been neighing is the very one which I gave my husband, or at least it resembles it very much.”

Yeng-Si, by way of reply, moaned:

“Oh, where can my poor son be?”

Thereupon, San-Syeng approached his mother and inquired the cause of her grief. Yeng-Si told him of the many sad experiences she had undergone since her departure into exile with San-Houni up to her arrest and condemnation to death by the Mandarin of San-Jon.

When she had finished, the young man in turn told his story. His concluding words were--“I have on my arm the name of San-Syeng, but I do not know how it is that I bear these characters which I have tried in vain to remove.”

Yeng-So-Yei who had been listening to the conversation could restrain herself no longer and cried:

“Tell me, what was your wife’s name and where did she live?”

“Yeng-So-Yei was my wife’s name; she lived in the village of Yen-Yu, but I found her home burned to the ground.”

“Oh, my dear San-Syeng,” cried the young woman. “Have I found you at last,” and turning to Yeng-Si, “Mother mine, here is your son!”

Their greetings naturally consumed some time--their hearts were glad and they were not ashamed to display their emotion. And yet the two women felt bitter and sad to think that soon they were about to die after having touched the threshold of that happiness which their reunion promised. San-Syeng ultimately succeeded in calming them. He enjoyed, he said, certain extraordinary powers of which he intended to make instant use.

Presently the young General’s orderly visited his master’s prison where he received orders to announce to the village the arrival of San-Syeng, a special envoy of the King, and to arrest the Mandarin at once.

’Twas but a brief while and the orderly came to report to his master that his commands had been carried out. Meantime, the town officials had rushed to the prison where they surrounded San-Syeng and paid him their homage. At their urging, San-Houni’s son left the prison and betook himself to the town-hall.

Yeng-So-Yei, catching sight of the horse she had given her husband, ran to the stately looking steed and imprinted a kiss on the end of its nose. The animal seemed to understand her message, for its eyes as they turned toward the young wife, seemed moist with tears.

“No tears now, my good fellow,” laughed Yeng-So-Yei. “You are happier than I for you can continually accompany him whom I love, while I am to be separated from him.”

San-Syeng, a witness of his wife’s gentle act, tenderly drew her to his heart, and kissing her hair said:

“Henceforth we shall never part from each other.”

San-Syeng, his cup overflowing with happiness at having found his mother and his wife at one and the same time, desired to be told about his father, and, at his urgent request, Yeng-Si, with tears in her eyes and a faltering voice, related to him the misfortunes of San-Houni.

“Don’t worry, mother dear,” pleaded San-Syeng. “After so much suffering, you are going to have happiness in abundance. I shall do everything I can to make life pleasant for you. Suppose that first we go visit Ou-Pung, the sister, who was so kind to you.”

This suggestion was very pleasing to Yeng-Si and they started on their journey to the temple of Ro-Ja. When they were passing by the lake which recalled so many bitter memories, Yeng-Si bade her son to pause. The little party halted while she told the melancholy tale of the devotion of the old lady who had sacrificed herself without hope of recompense or reward.

“Mother,” declared San-Syeng, “I am going to place a memorial in this spot to perpetuate the sublime sacrifice of your poor companion.” The General’s orderly was at once commissioned to employ workmen who were to begin immediately to erect a suitable tribute to the old lady’s memory.

Before reaching the shrine of Ro-Ja, Yeng-Si related to her son, while they were passing by the grove of bamboo, which figures so conspicuously in our story, under what pitiful circumstances he had been born.

Ou-Pung, the sister, did not count upon seeing Yeng-Si and her daughter-in-law so soon again. “This is my son,” proudly declared the nun’s former companion.

San-Syeng showered warm and profuse thanks upon the sister for all the attentions and kindnesses she had shown to Yeng-Si.

“Do not thank me, sir,” replied the sister. “I have only done my duty in sheltering an unfortunate woman. Buddha has taken pity upon her and has rewarded her piety and her long suffering by permitting her to find you.”

Under the supervision of the orderly, a magnificent pagoda was rapidly built by the water’s edge. Upon it could be read this inscription:

WITH EVERLASTING GRATITUDE TO
THE BENEFACTOR OF MY MOTHER.

Ou-Pung consented to go with her visitors to see the temple that had just been completed. San-Syeng had directed that an altar for sacrifices be placed before the pagoda and that Su-Rung be arrested and brought to him. All of the thief’s property was to be seized.

This very moment, strange to say, Su-Rung was telling his brother, Su-Yeng, of a peculiar dream he had had the preceding night. He had seen himself surrounded by tongues of flame and his head, severed from his body, was boiling in a large copper kettle.

“It signifies that your end is near and that you will die through the will of man,” asserted Su-Yeng. “Why must you continue to lead this sinful life? It would be more fitting that you experience remorse and fear for an envoy of the King is in the neighborhood.”

Scarcely had Su-Yeng uttered these words, when there came a loud rapping at the door. After a brief struggle, Su-Rung was reduced to helplessness and securely bound. All the stolen objects that could be found were collected, thrown in a heap, and the party turned their steps toward the pagoda.

When the criminal was brought face to face with the young General, the latter demanded:

“My name is San-Syeng. You know me, don’t you?”

Su-Rung, much surprised, could not imagine that his adopted son had been elevated to the dignity of a King’s envoy, so he replied, coolly:

“Your name is not unfamiliar to me. My son was called San-Syeng.”

“You have a son, then?”

“Yes, he left me three years ago, to go to the Capital and since that day I have had no news of him.”

“Well, you may know that I am the man of whom you boast being the father. But I am not the son of a murderer. I have found my mother who has told me about my birth and your infamous crimes. There, do you recognize my mother?” added San-Syeng, indicating Yeng-Si to the brigand with a gesture of his hand.

Yeng-Si, who had been watching Su-Rung attentively for some time, burst out with:

“You vile wretch, so you’re still alive! Thank Heaven it is granted me to satisfy my thirst for vengeance. My son, there stands your father’s murderer. Kill him, strike him down, with your own hand! I could tear the very eyes from his head!”

San-Syeng’s mother was beside herself and he sought to calm her, representing that he had no authority to put any man to death without an order from the King. Yeng-Si did not insist; her mind was crowded with other more charitable thoughts when, in company with her friends, she knelt in the beautiful pagoda to pray for the soul of the martyred woman to whom she owed her life.

Su-Rung was immediately dispatched to the Capital under heavy guard. When the troops and their prisoner were about to depart, San-Syeng, turning to Su-Yeng, said:

“You have always been an honest, loyal man. Take these things which your brother has unlawfully appropriated. They are yours.”

“Thank you so much, sir. But I no longer am in need of anything, for I am going to die with my brother.”

“What is that? I do not comprehend your decision.”

“When a tree is brought to the ground by the woodsman, can the branches continue to live?”

“But if your brother was a criminal, you have nothing to reproach yourself with.”

“That may be true, but nevertheless I am determined to leave this life with the brother I have always loved and with whom I have always lived.” And San-Syeng found it useless to endeavor to dissuade Su-Yeng from his fatal purpose.

Before returning to the Capital, San-Houni’s son visited several more of the provinces, looking after the King’s business. When his mission was concluded, he sought audience with the King for the purpose of reporting what he had seen, heard, and done. The Queen was a patient and attentive listener while the young General was telling the story of his adventures. However, when San-Syeng had finished speaking, Cheng-Si, with a sob in her voice, cried:

“Oh, you are so much happier than I!”

Her strength failed her and she slipped from her seat to the floor. Those in the Royal Chamber crowded about the prostrate Queen--at a respectful distance, however--who was not long in regaining her consciousness. Thereupon San-Syeng asked her tenderly, as he bowed before her, what had been the cause of her sudden swoon.

“Alas!” mourned Cheng-Si. “It has been three years since I have seen my father, and in all that time I have had no word of him. That is why I am so sad and down-hearted.”

The King and his General assured her that they would use all possible means within their power to find the Queen’s father. The Queen’s pretty and shapely head was bowed in deep meditation, when suddenly she cried:

“Well, let’s collect all the blind men in the Kingdom; invite them to a big feast. I’m going to give every one of them a little token.”

“Majesty,” replied San-Syeng, “it shall happen as you have wished.”

No time was lost; orders were issued to every Mandarin to send every blind man in his jurisdiction to the Capital. And thus it came to pass that Cheng-Si collected all the blind men of Korea in order to give them a token.

* * * * *

_But more anon, for here endeth the ninth step of our legend._

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