Tales of a Korean Grandmother Page 10

  "All shook their heads. Each one knew how many coins he himself had slipped into his pocket, as his proper 'squeeze.' You know what a 'squeeze' is, I am sure. You've often heard your father complain of officials who take for themselves a fat share of the taxes the people pay to the King. Well, that is a squeeze.

  "But many more coins than their squeeze had vanished. Who could be the thief? The assistants stood guard while the King's Treasurer watched.

  "One morning at daybreak the Treasurer heard a sharp, clinking sound on the tops of the piles of cash. To his amazement, several coins rose into the air and flew out through a hole in the Treasury roof. Off they went, by twos and by threes, by fours and by fives. Each time Woo pulled cash off his magic string, coins were whisked away. By closely watching, the Treasurer could see them riding the wind to the roof of Woo's little house.

  "The good tokgabi who had put the magic string at Woo's gate gave the spoonmaker warning before the Treasury guards came to get him.

  "'Take our precious cash string with you and hide it well,' Woo said to his wife. 'Make your way to the temple of the Great Buddha. The good priests will give us shelter. Wait there till I come!'

  "With their son his wife set out at once for the faraway temple on the Diamond Mountain. The cash string was safely tucked away, far inside her sleeve.

  "The Treasury guards came, and Woo was again brought before the Judge. But this time there was no mention of paddling. A man who knew such a secret as his was far too important to be beaten to death. 'Perhaps,' the Judge thought, 'this spoonmaker can be persuaded to bring money through the air into my pocket, too.'

  "Now Woo had no intention of parting with the secret of his magic cash string. And he knew he must find a way to make his escape before the Judge put him in jail, where the locks were strong and the paddles were like iron.

  "'Honorable Judge,' this spoonmaker said craftily, 'I will indeed show you the secret of my coins that ride on the wind. But it will take time. I need a great sheet of paper, some ink and an inkstone, and a rabbit-hair pen.'

  "The large sheet of paper was pasted upon a broad screen, and with the hair pen Woo began to draw black lines upon it. The attendants gaped as they saw appear, there before their very eyes, a donkey, life-size. The little round eyes, the stiff hairy mane, the tiny neat hoofs, the long tufted tail one after another, each part of the donkey's body came into being under Woo's brush.

  "'I must not work too fast. My wife must have a good start,' Woo thought to himself, and he took great pains in drawing the nose and the mouth of the donkey. The courtiers began to laugh and to whisper, 'It looks just like the Judge.'

  "'But it has only one ear,' one onlooker said.

  "'That's like the Judge, too. He never hears but one side of a case,' another declared. And they fell to laughing louder and louder.

  "The Judge, hearing their merriment, came to look at the donkey himself. Straightway he flew into a rage, for he, too, saw the likeness. 'Bring out the paddles,' cried the angry official. But Woo quickly brushed in the other ear, and the picture was finished.

  "At once the paper donkey began to move its head. With a loud heehaw a live animal trotted right out of the screen. Woo leaped on its back, and the donkey galloped away. Across the courtyard and out of the open gate it went before the astonished guards could stop it. And that was the last those people ever saw of Woo, the beggars' friend."

  "What became of him, Halmoni?" Yong Tu asked the story-teller.

  "Did he catch up with his wife?" Ok Cha wanted to know.

  "That he did, little precious," the Korean grandmother answered. "And though the people of Seoul never saw Woo again, still they heard much about him. The beggars followed him to his new home in the Temple of the Great Buddha on the Diamond Mountain. And they received from the priests there alms which Woo provided. So long as Woo lived, cash from the Royal Treasure House still rode on the winds to refill his magic string.

  "When Woo finally died, some say the Court Treasurers neglected to mention it to the King. They only took more and more 'squeeze' for themselves, and they still blamed it on Woo and his magic cash string. The piles of money in the Treasury grew smaller year after year.

  "Then a wiser king came to sit on our Dragon Throne. One day he hid his jade person under a beggar's robe. He went to seek Woo himself at the Temple of the Great Buddha. To that king's surprise, he found the temple in ruins and he learned Woo had died many, many years since. From that time on, not nearly so much money flew out of the Royal Treasury into the pockets of dishonest officials.

  THE

  VILLAGE

  OF

  THE PURE

  QUEEN

  THE great bell of Seoul spoke to the men of the city each evening about nine o'clock. At that hour the bellmen thrust the huge, hanging beam against its metal sides, and its booming notes sounded through all the streets of the Capital. "All men indoors! Lock the seven city gates! Clear the streets so that women may safely leave the inner courts!" This was the message which "Man Guide," as the bell was called, gave out with its thundering voice.

  "There are rough men in our land, just as there are in other lands," Halmoni said to Ok Cha. "Tales are told of bold ones who carry off brides from the very gates of their houses. When men are abroad, women are safe only inside their own inner court."

  That is why none but servant maids, singing girls, and those in from the country were seen in the streets of Seoul in the daytime. That is why, so Halmoni said, a wise king had long ago ordered the custom of ringing the men into their houses when evening came. With the streets empty, and under the shelter of darkness, it was quite safe for women then to walk abroad to pay visits. They might even go to buy in the shops the things peddlers had not yet brought to their gates.

  When Ok Cha's mother and the other women of the Kim household walked out of the bamboo gate, each one threw over her head a long, bright green silken coat. With its sleeves flapping empty about her shoulders, she drew it together over her face, so that only one eye peeped out. Safely hidden thus, she would be mistaken for an ordinary woman. No one would guess she belonged to a rich family like the Kims.

  "There's a story about those green coats," Halmoni once told Ok Cha. "Earlier they were men's garments. Then there was a war. A beautiful princess escaped from the enemy by throwing her father's green coat over her head and covering her face with it. That proved what a good protection it was. Ever since, the women of Seoul have worn such a coat during their walks on the streets."

  Ok Cha liked to go out into the city with her mother and the maidservant who carried the lantern. She learned to pick her way carefully amid the dirt and the holes in the narrow unpaved streets. At the same time she could see all the interesting things about which Yong Tu and the men of her family talked so much.

  Ok Cha's mother threw over her head a long, bright green silken coat for her walks outside the bamboo gate.

  The part of the city the little girl liked the best was that called Chung-dong, or the Village of the Pure Queen. There could be seen the curving roofs of the Emperor's palace, the only building in Seoul which rose more than one story above the ground. It would not be fitting, Halmoni said, that other buildings should be taller and perhaps look down on the courts of their Jade Ruler. Ok Cha was always a little afraid of the statues of the Flame Swallowers which protected the palace from fire. These were two monsters in stone which would surely eat up the fire spirits before they could enter the royal gates. With all the houses of the palace attendants, and with the many temples near by, Ok Cha thought that Chung-dong was far more like a town than like a village.

  "Who was the Pure Queen, Halmoni?" the little girl asked one morning, following an evening excursion into the city with her mother and the other women of the Inner Court.

  "Hé, that person was a good person, and a wise one, too. They say that she was called Kang and that she was only a simple girl who lived far out in the country. One evening when Kang was drawing water up from the village
well, a fine general rode up on horseback. He was an important man, as one could see by the number of servants who ran by his side and by the number of soldiers who formed his bodyguard. But great ones and lesser ones are much the same, Jade Child, when it comes to being thirsty and tired.

  "The day was hot, and the journey had been long. The General's face was the color of a red peony bloom. Beads of water made tiny brooks that trickled down his broad cheeks. 'Give me water to drink,' the General said to the girl, when he had given her polite greeting.

  "The girl Kang bowed in return, and she filled a big bowl of water, freshly drawn from the well. But before she handed the bowl up to the great man, she plucked a number of tender green willow leaves and dropped them into the cold water.

  "The General took the bowl in his hands and began to drink. He was greatly annoyed when he found how the willow leaves got in his way. Instead of taking the huge gulps, which his thirst called for, he was forced to sip slowly.

  "When he had drained the big bowl at last, the General scolded the girl; but he spoke gently, because she was in truth of a jade prettiness.

  "'It was not very polite of this young person to throw leaves into my drinking bowl,' the General said to Kang.

  "'It was only because I feared for the health of the Great General,' the young girl replied. 'You were overheated and tired, honorable sir. With quick drinking you would have swallowed the spirits of sickness. You might even have died. It was to prevent this that I put the willow leaves into the bowl. They forced you to drink slowly with very small sips. Thus no harm could come to you.'

  "The General said to himself, 'This maid is as wise as she is beautiful. There is love for her in my heart.' Then he said to the girl, 'I will make you my bride if you will but wait until the war ends.'

  "Well, my children, the girl waited, and at last that war was over. When Kang's bridegroom came riding upon his white horse, who should he be but this very same General. And who should that general have been but the famous General Yi, who later became King of our Dragon Backed Country. It is a son of this Yi family who dwells in the Jade Palace of our land today.

  "Now, of course, the King had many other wives also in his palace, as do all kings," Halmoni went on with her tale. "But they say he admired none as he admired his good Queen Kang. Her wisdom shed light upon his most troublesome problems of state, and he always consulted her.

  "No doubt she even had a voice in choosing the place for this city of Seoul. Her sedan chair was carried just behind the chair of the King when this valley in the mountains was selected for his new capital. We know she had a voice in choosing her own grave site.

  "'When I have mounted the Dragon, you must build a huge kite and write my name Kang upon it,' the good Queen said to the King. 'Let the wind take the kite high into the air above the Royal Palace. Then do you break the string. Where the kite falls, there let my spirit rest.'

  "So it was done, precious girl. The King himself sent the huge kite up into the sky. With his own jade fingers he cut its string. Like a great wounded butterfly, the kite slowly fluttered down to the earth. On the little ridge where it landed, Queen Kang's tomb was built.

  "'The Pure Tomb,' it was called. For many years it remained there, close to the Palace. The sad King liked to listen to the music of the bells in the little temple above it. He thought they were like the soft voice of his departed Queen Kang.

  "Another king of that family moved this tomb later to the eastern edge of the city. More and more houses were built upon its former site so near the Palace. But the people did not forget the wisdom and goodness of their former Queen Kang. They called that place, as we still do, the 'Village of the Pure Queen.'"

  A

  STORY

  FOR

  SALE

  ONE hot summer afternoon Halmoni and her grand-children were sitting, pleasantly idle, beside the cool sparkling brook in the Garden of Green Gems. They were talking of this and of that, of nothing in particular. As usual at such times, one of the children said, "Tell us a story, Halmoni, a new story, one we've not heard before."

  "How much will you pay for a story?" the Korean grandmother asked teasingly.

  None of these children thought such a question strange. Traveling poets often knocked at the Kim gate and asked if the Master would not buy a poem from them. Did not the traveling storytellers at the market and the fairs always demand pay for the good tales they told there? Even their own poet-father received pay for his verses. But of course his pay was in gifts of fat roasted chickens, of bolts of grass linen, or of a new finely sewn collar for his silken coat. These gifts to him were tokens of admiration from friends —even from strangers—for the golden words that flowed from his rabbit-hair brush.

  "How much would your story cost, Halmoni?" Ok Cha said, coming close and laying her hand affectionately on the old woman's shoulder.

  "Well, I don't know." The Korean grandmother smiled. "Yi and his wife paid a full hundred strings of cash for a story. They really got no story at all though, in the end, it turned out to be worth a great deal of money to them.

  "We'll talk about the price some other time," Halmoni continued. "And I'll tell you about this story Old Yi bought at such a great price. Yi was a rich fellow who lived with his wife far out in the country and far up on a hillside. They had many times a hundred strings of cash in their house. So much did they have, indeed, that their brass-bound chests overflowed, and they hid part of their wealth in the great kimcbee jars, buried deep in their courtyard.

  "Riches do not always bring pleasure, my little ones. There were no sons in that house far up on the hillside, and no grandchildren to bother." Halmoni smiled so that her listeners knew she did not mean the last words just as they sounded. "No, it was as still as the ancestors' tomb under Yi's roof. The old couple often were lonely. Traveling actors or storytellers never knocked at their gate, so far off the road. They were too old to go in their sedan chairs to pay visits or find amusement at the town fairs. Today was like tomorrow, and the evenings were long.

  "One morning the Master of that house called Hap, his gatekeeper, to him. 'Go down to the valley,' he commanded, 'and do not stop walking until you have found a good storyteller. Buy from him a fine tale. You can pay him one hundred strings of cash for it!'

  "This gatekeeper, Hap, was a dark, ignorant fellow. He himself would not have known a storyteller from a woodcutter. But he loaded the chest containing the cash on a wooden carrying frame, which we call a jiggy. He raised this up on his back. Then he trotted off down the hillside in search of a fine tale to bring back to his master.

  "Many hours Hap walked along the path through the valley before he met anyone. Then he came on a farmer, resting by the side of a stream that ran through some rice fields.

  "'Have you been in peace, venerable sir?' Hap said, bowing in polite greeting.

  "'Yé, Uncle, and you, have you eaten your honorable meals?' the stranger returned his courtesy, according to custom.

  "'Will the Learned Man tell me if he has a story which he will sell? My Master has ordered me to buy a fine tale.'

  "Now this stranger was but a countryman himself, a man also without learning. He had no story on his tongue's tip, nor could he remember one. But he had great need of money, and he did not wish to let such a good chance slip by.

  "'Yé, Uncle, I have a story,' he said to the gatekeeper. 'But it will cost a large sum. How much can your Master pay?'

  "'Will a hundred strings of cash be enough? That is all I have in this money box.'

  The farmer was overjoyed when he heard of this goodly sum, and he nodded his head. He thought hard, for he still could remember no story and he had not the wits to invent one. As he gazed about him in his need, he saw a long-legged stork, picking its way through the rice field. Daintily lifting first one leg and then the other, the great bird moved towards the stream.

  "'He comes! Step by step!' The farmer spoke aloud. 'Step by step he comes nearer.' And the stupid gatekeeper, thinking the man w
as beginning the story, repeated his words. He must know this fine tale by heart so that he could tell it to the Master.

  "'He comes! Step by step!' Hap echoed. 'Step by step he comes nearer!'

  "At that moment the stork saw a movement in the rice, and he halted to find out just what it was. 'Now he stops to listen! Now he stops to look!' the farmer said with his eyes still on the stork.

  "'Now he stops to listen! Now he stops to look!' the gatekeeper chanted.

  "The rice plants no longer moved, and the stork bent his neck to hunt for some good morsel, an earthworm or perhaps a snail on the ground. With bent legs and slow steps the bird crept through the field.

  "'He bends down! He creeps!' the farmer went on, hoping that the stork would furnish him with a satisfactory tale. And the gatekeeper spoke likewise, reciting each word with great care.

  "Then there was a quick movement in the rice, and a fox raised its black nose out of the green. With a leap off the ground the stork spread its broad wings and flew quickly to safety.

  "'Ai! Ai!' cried the farmer. 'He's off! He is fleeing. Soon he will be safe!'

  "'He's off. He is fleeing. Soon he will be safe!' his listener cried too.

  "'Is that all the story?' Hap asked the stranger when no more words came from his lips.

  "'That is all. Who could want more?' the farmer said haughtily, and he loaded Hap's hundred strings of cash on his own 'jiggy.'

  "On his way home up the hillside, Hap repeated this story over and over. He was proud that he did not forget one single word. Of course he did not understand it, but then he was a dark, unlearned fellow.

  "Old Yi and his wife also thought it a queer tale. They did not understand it, either. The old man told it over aloud night after night, trying to puzzle out its meaning.

  "Now in that lonely region, it is not at all strange that one evening a wicked man came to rob this rich aged couple. The robber was young, and it was no trouble to him to climb over the wall. With soft steps the thief was making his way toward the house, when he heard a voice say, 'He comes! Step by step! Step by step he comes nearer.'