by Sumi Hahn
When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he gathered his hair and threw it into the flames. He paused on the edge of the bank to take a lungful of air before jumping into the creek. His teeth chattered as he scoured his body with handfuls of pine needles. His fingers grew numb as they scrubbed his scalp.
When he could no longer feel his feet, he returned to the fire and wiped himself off with his silk handkerchief, wringing it out as needed. His clothes were still damp, but he put them on anyway. They would dry when he sat by the fire and ate his dinner, a single roasted sweet potato, dug out from the ashes.
Before he fell asleep, he slid on a pair of gold spectacles and studied himself in his pocket mirror. He nodded, pleased, before placing the glasses back into their case. Tomorrow morning, he would pat perfumed oil on his cheeks, return to his true self, and live like a human being again.
* * *
When the military truck drove by at dawn, a trim, bespectacled man stood erect by the roadside. The driver rolled down the window and smelled orange blossoms. Two soldiers ran outside from the rear of a truck. They pointed rifles at the man while the driver recited the first line of a script he had been given that morning.
The man with the spectacles rubbed his clean-shaven chin before responding with the correct phrase and code word. The driver nodded to the men with the rifles, who saluted before returning to the back of the truck. The driver raised his hand stiffly but smiled. “An honor to meet you, Lieutenant Lee. Third Platoon of the Fourteenth Regiment reporting to duty, sir.”
Lieutenant Lee, formerly the constable, acknowledged the greeting with a slight dip of his combed head. The scent of orange blossom grew sweeter.
“Where are we headed, sir?”
“A little seaside village on the outskirts of Seogwipo.” Lieutenant Lee sniffed as he dabbed his nose with his silk handkerchief. “But, first, a slight detour.” He folded the handkerchief into a neat square and tucked it into his front pocket. “We need to find a cow.”
Twenty-Three
Junja’s grandmother faced Suwol’s mother over a dinner table graced by some of the finest cooking the old woman had ever tasted. Junja’s presence, along with the crowd of women and children at the communal gathering, prevented her from talking frankly to the boy’s mother, so the old woman resorted to easy pleasantries while studying her surroundings. The Yang compound was impressive, with its high walls and bird’s eye view of the ocean. She was pleased to observe, however, that it did not surpass her family’s estate, which now lay in ruins, torched by the Japanese as they fled.
A marriage between her granddaughter and the eldest son of the Yang family would restore a Goh woman to a household worthy of her lineage. Her village hut was fine for hiding in, to make the world think she was an ordinary person, but this arrangement would better suit her ancestors and her sensibilities.
When Junja was led out of the dining room by a crowd of little children, Grandmother seized her chance to speak in private with the boy’s mother. She shifted her position on the floor cushion, drawing up a knee and making herself comfortable.
“I’ve eaten well.” She could have been warmer in her praise, but she wanted Mrs. Yang to know that she did not find their wealth intimidating.
The younger woman dipped her head, deep enough to acknowledge the elder’s advantage of years. The old woman’s smooth accent, she guessed, spoke to an expensive education on the mainland. “I am immensely grateful to share a meal with the woman who saved my silly son’s life.” The boy’s mother smiled, dimples flashing, disarming to anyone else. Her voice, like her complexion, was soft from many years of comfortable living.
The old woman laughed out loud. “What a relief! You’re not one of those uppity, sneering types.” Her abrupt candor startled her hostess, who adjusted her own response accordingly.
“Why would I give myself airs? We’re all equal in the eyes of God.”
“So you’re a Christian, eh?”
“Yes.”
The old woman’s golden-brown eyes glinted. “I believe in the gods of Jeju, not one who arrived in a book carried by foreigners.”
“You talk like an educated person.”
“I went to school in Seoul.”
“The Christian missionaries run a college for women there. Have you heard of it?”
“I’m quite familiar with Ewha.”
Suwol’s mother started. “Did you go there?” If so, the old woman knew more about Christianity than she did.
“Long enough to conclude that the hindoongi religion was not to my taste. The son of an almighty God nailed to a cross for the likes of us?” The old woman’s eyes flashed. “For a haenyeo, it’s more practical to pray to the god of the seas.”
Suwol’s mother blushed. “I have to confess that I still ask the mountain god for help when I’m looking for gosari and herbs.” She leaned forward to pour tea into her guest’s cup. “My family owes you a great debt for what you did in Jeju City. Such a clever ruse to pretend that Suwol was your granddaughter’s wayward husband.” She kept her eyes respectfully lowered.
The old woman smiled, grateful for this easy opening. “Actually, your nephew Mr. Lee deserves credit for that idea.” She blew on her tea. “He also recommended that we turn that lie into truth, given the graveness of Suwol’s situation.”
The boy’s mother looked up quickly. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Mr. Lee says that Suwol is being watched by other Nationalist agents as well. It’s the only reason his life was spared, because they believe he will lead them to the rebel stronghold on the mountain. The more your son behaves like a newlywed, the safer he will be.” The old woman took a loud slurp of her tea. “I don’t think this will be too much of a strain for him.”
“Are you saying that something has already happened between my son and your granddaughter?” Suwol’s mother kept her voice smooth, though her dismay was obvious.
Junja’s grandmother chose her words with care. “There seems to be a mutual interest that will make our task less onerous than it could be. The sooner we act, the better off your son will be.”
“And your granddaughter—she’ll be better off too.” Suwol’s mother did not soften the edge in her voice this time.
The old woman’s mouth turned down. Marriage to Suwol might improve Junja’s future prospects, but at great risk to her present safety. “Though it pleases me to have my granddaughter marry into a yangban family like my own, Junja will be linked to a foolish boy whose ties to Kim Dal Sam have almost gotten him killed. I will be placing my granddaughter in grave danger to protect your son. These are not circumstances I’d willingly choose for her. I’m sure her mother wouldn’t have either. We do what we must in dangerous times.”
The boy’s mother looked away, chastised. She was all too aware of her obligation to this woman, but she could not concede right away. It would be unseemly, considering the difference in their status, to agree too quickly to such an arrangement. Suwol, as the first-born son of a yangban, was far more than the girl deserved, were circumstances normal. Unfortunately, nothing about the world seemed normal anymore. The old woman’s jab about Junja’s mother hit its mark, reminding her of their long-standing friendship.
Suwol’s mother took a deep breath. “Your daughter will have to live here, on the mountain, with us.”
“And she will.” The old woman understood the reasons for this woman’s posturing. The rest of the conversation, however, had to be forthright. “But not until it’s safe. For now, both of them must live by the sea. The mountain will be banned soon. You don’t want to move under those circumstances.”
The expression on the small woman’s face flickered. Planes had been flying past the compound almost every day, making several passes with each visit. “God will protect us.”
“Gods are not shields to be used at your beck and call. You know better than that.”
Suwol’s mother wrung her hands. “I can’t bear to think of what will happen if we leave.�
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The old woman thought about the last time she had seen her family home. “Better for your children to sleep in a strange village than to die in their own beds.”
Suwol’s mother looked Junja’s grandmother in the eye. “I will agree to the marriage on one condition. We hold the wedding here on the mountain.”
The old woman pretended to mull over the prospect. She had to restrain herself from revealing her satisfaction. The conversation had played out more smoothly than she hoped, with everything proceeding in the manner she and the constable had planned. All they needed now was the cooperation of the gods.
* * *
“Tomorrow?” Junja’s voice stopped just short of being a scream. Did she just hear her grandmother correctly, that she was supposed to marry Suwol the next day?
The old woman flinched. The two of them had been given a very comfortable room with ample privacy. Still, the girl’s voice was loud enough to have been heard by people in the main house.
“Keep your voice down.”
She and Suwol’s mother had consulted an astrological calendar and agreed upon the closest propitious date. The boy’s parents were telling their son of the arrangement at this very moment as well.
Junja’s voice lowered to a hiss. “Halmung, as much as I like Suwol, I can’t marry him tomorrow!”
The old woman sighed. Choosing who and when to marry were luxuries denied to most women. Not only was Junja of age, she even liked the boy. Why was she making such a fuss? “If you want to keep Suwol safe, you two must marry. We have to make that story we told in Jeju City true.”
“How will the general know? Is he coming here to check that Suwol and I are living in the same house? Doesn’t he have more important work to do?”
“Constable Lee told us that soldiers are going to be stationed at our village. Any one of those men could be reporting back to the general in Jeju City.”
Junja bit her lip. “Why tomorrow, Halmung? Why not a week or a month from now? Anything but tomorrow!”
“We don’t have much choice, Junja. You heard the constable tell Suwol to leave the mountain before the end of the week. His mother insisted on having the wedding here. She and I agreed on the date after much careful consideration.”
Even so, why had such a significant decision been made without consulting her first? Junja clenched her hands.
Grandmother laid her palms on Junja’s fists. “Now you understand what being a woman means. The world will determine your path for you, without any regard for your abilities or your desires. At least you are a haenyeo on Jeju. We have more say about our lives than most women.”
The old woman closed her eyes, wrung out by the frenzy of the past few days. “Had you not cared for Suwol, I never would have agreed to this. You should thank me for considering your preferences.” She gave Junja a gentle push. “Let’s go. They’re waiting for us.”
Junja stood up. She cared for Suwol, more than she wanted to admit, and the boy had been declaring his affections for her since the day they met. Everyone was moving faster than she could bear. What did Mother always say about unknown waters and unfamiliar situations? Watch, before wading in. No matter how much she tried, Junja could not fathom Grandmother’s motives. Surely another way could be found to ensure everyone’s safety, one that wasn’t as drastic as a last-minute marriage. The girl wiped away her tears of frustration. Mother always knew how to work her way around the old woman’s stubbornness. Junja sniffed, willing her tears to stop as she followed her grandmother toward the main house. No need for Suwol and his parents to know that she had been crying.
* * *
Suwol’s mother had instructed an auntie to find a suitable hanbok for the girl’s grandmother. The old woman had demurred at first, saying that all eyes would be on the young bride, not the grandmother. When the small woman put her foot down, Grandmother Goh stopped resisting. The woman’s hospitality was faultless, and she had no desire to look like a pauper at her granddaughter’s wedding, no matter how hastily arranged.
She ran her hands over the gray silk skirt and jacket, hoping that her granddaughter’s future would be as smooth and soft. Her breath caught, snagged by a familiar pain. She rubbed the right side of her belly. Something had been stirring under the surface there, fed by her anguish over her daughter’s death. Instead of pulling out that weed, she had let it grow. Now its roots were reaching into the core of her being.
Had circumstances been different, she would have denied this intrusion. She would have walked up Hallasan to meditate and pray, before asking the shaman to expel the darkness with a proper ritual. But there wasn’t enough time. Soon, this plant of sorrow would consume her body.
She sighed. She had to rest if she was going to make it through tomorrow’s ceremony.
The door slid open a crack. “Halmung?”
The little one. The old woman smiled. “Yes, child?”
Peanut opened the door wider. “If Junja becomes my sister by marrying my brother, does that mean you’ll be my grandmother too?”
“Would you like that?”
Peanut nodded. “The pigs would like you to be their grandmother too.”
“Really? How do you know?”
“They told me.”
The little girl was serious. The old woman studied her bright eyes and decided to give her a gift. “Come in, so I can tell you a story.”
Peanut scooted inside.
“This tale is about a warrior princess from a long time ago, when our country had a different name. She reminds me of you.”
The little girl grinned as she made herself comfortable on the floor.
“The princess lived way up north in a mountainous region so wild and barren that in the winter the white clouds that people breathed out would freeze into sparkling bits of ice and fall to the ground. Because of the harshness of the land, a woman from that place was twice as tough as any male warrior from the south. The princess could shoot arrows from horseback and fight with a sword.”
Peanut’s eyes grew round.
“Like you, the princess understood the language of animals. She could hear the whisperings of falcons, who could sight game from high up in the sky. And she understood her horse’s warnings about snakes and other dangerous animals. Because of her ability, the princess was a better hunter than any of her thirteen brothers and became her father’s favorite.
“Every day, the princess rode out with her horse to go hunting, bow slung over her back, where she could reach for it quickly. One afternoon, a strange sight stopped her horse in its tracks: a crying tiger with its head bent over a stream.
“The princess positioned her bow, pointing an arrow at the beast. It had a magnificent coat that would make a splendid gift for her father. She studied the tiger carefully before deciding to target the tiger’s eye.
“As she drew her bow, the tiger turned his golden gaze toward her and spoke: ‘Have you come to take away my misery, princess?’
“The princess was startled, but she stayed still, bow drawn. She had never talked to a tiger before, so she didn’t know what to expect. The tiger continued to talk as if it were human, telling her how grateful he would be for his life to end. As he talked, his silvery tears dropped into the stream, hissing as they merged with the water.
“‘Are you giving me permission to kill you?’ the princess asked the tiger.
“The tiger answered, ‘I am begging you. Because I’ve been enchanted, the only way I can die is if your arrow pierces one of my tears before it falls into the stream.’
“The princess studied the gleaming tears as they fell. They were large and glowed like moonlight. She let her arrow fly …
Peanut pounced on the old woman. “And did she hit a tear?”
“No, she did not. She took another arrow from her quiver and missed again. And again. Until only one arrow remained.”
Peanut covered her mouth. “That’s not good.”
“Yes. The princess realized that the tiger had tricked her. He sto
pped crying and stood up slowly, as if he were struggling to control his body. His eyes swirled, sometimes human, sometimes beastly. When she saw the powerful muscles of its haunches ripple, the princess understood that the tiger would cross the space between them in one leap.
“Everything happened in an instant. The tiger pounced, the princess leapt, and the horse bolted. Just as the princess felt the tiger’s teeth sink into her neck, she heard it cry, ‘Forgive me, princess!’ That’s when she thrust her last arrow deep into the tiger’s eye, piercing one of its tears.”
“Please don’t tell me the princess died. I don’t think I like this story.”
“Yes, she died. But the tiger accompanied her into the next world, where both of them were reborn as a queen and king.”
Peanut, who had crept slowly onto the old woman’s lap as the story was being told, jumped off. She stood in front of the old woman, quivering with indignation. “What kind of terrible story is this? Did you make it up?”
“It’s a story my grandmother told me and that her grandmother told her. If you think about it, the story isn’t that terrible. Just a little bit sad.”
Peanut shook her head. “All sad stories are terrible. I don’t understand why the princess and the tiger became queen and king in the next life. That would mean they loved each other and got married. Why would the princess love the tiger that killed her?”
“Because he was a prince spellbound in the form of a tiger. When they got to the next life, the princess was able to see that.” The old woman smoothed the hair on the little girl’s head. “Make sure you keep listening to what animals tell you. Unlike people, they are incapable of lying.”