Only Yi Hyun, who arrived the day before, had managed to wash up and change into clothes befitting a prince. He had not been able to see the king that evening, since the physicians had already given His Majesty a sleeping draught for the night, but he had been able to make use of the royal physician’s services himself. His wound was cleaned and freshly bandaged, with healing ointment applied.
The chief eunuch escorted him to Donggung — the ‘Eastern Palace’, a palace within the palace that had long served as the residence of the crown prince of Joseon — and assigned temporary servants to him for the time being.
Yi Hyun bathed, washed off the grime of the last few days, let himself sink into the pleasure of getting dressed in fresh clothes, and stretched out on a soft, flower-scented mattress. Captivity in the Great Qing, the difficult travel, assassins and hunger — all that was now behind him. He was in Joseon, in his father’s palace, and in the morning they were finally supposed to meet.
Despite his exhaustion, sleep would not come.
Yi Hyun lay with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. A small spider crawled slowly along the dark beam, barely distinguishable among the cracks and shadows. If it stopped, it would become invisible altogether. Just like his newly found elder brother. He, too, could have lived quietly and peacefully, far from the ever-watchful broom of the maid in charge of cleanliness, if he had chosen silence. No one would ever have thought to search for a long-dead prince among nameless commoners.
But it seemed fate had decided otherwise and had pushed them face to face.
Yi Hyun understood perfectly well that this man, Yi Yun, posed a political danger to him. At the same time, he was forced to admit that in the circumstances his elder brother had behaved flawlessly. He was not sure he himself could have lived twenty years in the shadows, watching over a barely known relative. He did not really understand how he was supposed to behave with these suddenly discovered brothers.
Were they meant to be friends?
Go hunting together?
Visit the flower houses and feast side by side, as he used to do with his companions in Beijing?
Yi Hyun sighed and rolled onto his side. He lost all interest in the spider.
They were all dead.
It was hard to grasp, hard to believe. Everyone he had known was dead — and many had been killed by this same Yi Yun. Was he supposed to take revenge on his elder brother for the fallen? Demand his support in exchange for those he himself had just lost?
Yi Hyun had the impression that his brother would not refuse responsibility. He wanted to believe that he had truly preserved his innate nobility, despite all Councilor Choi’s efforts. Was he really trying to justify his brother in the hope of drawing closer, or was he simply placing the available pieces in their best positions, as he had been taught? Yi Hyun did not know himself. At least, as long as his impulses of the heart aligned with the decisions of his mind, he was content.
He would have liked to speak with Yi Yun longer, to learn what he thought of the Great Qing and of Joseon’s internal politics. That would have helped him understand whether they could be allies. The Northern Campaign could not be launched by him alone, and any support might prove useful.
As for support, that, too, was not especially straightforward. Unfortunately, Yi Hyun had not memorized the genealogies of the king’s former consorts, assuming they had all perished. Now he could not say with certainty what connections the two new princes might still have at court. Their mother had been Lady Kim, and the Right State Councilor was also a Kim, but whether they belonged to the same branch of the clan, the prince did not know.
Yi Hyun himself had no particularly influential relatives at court. His grandfather, the minister, had fallen ill and retired a few years back, and his mother’s cousins had never risen above the fourth rank. That might have been an advantage, had he been the only prince — impartial and incorruptible — but if he was to fight for the throne, a counterweight would have been useful. In the very near future he would have to study the court and find allies.
Of course, much also depended on what the king, their father, decided to do with his unexpectedly recovered sons. And on how the trap for the Chief State Councilor would work. Yi Hyun feared that Councilor Choi might still wriggle free, despite the precious sacrifice of his brothers.
Also, to his own surprise, he hoped they would survive.
Logically speaking, his problems would be far fewer if at least his elder brother did not return from that forest inn. But this time Yi Hyun wanted to be selfish and wish for something for the sake of his soul, not for the sake of cool-headed expediency. So he lay awake for a long time in the darkness, thinking about the battle raging out there in the forest without him. His dreams were restless, but morning brought relief in the form of the news that the king expected them at his quarters, all three of them.
The princes met in the corridor before the doors of the royal bedchamber. Observing propriety, Yi Hyun inclined his head in a polite bow to his brothers. Yi Hwan, who still both looked and behaved like the slave Cudgel, tried to prostrate himself upon seeing the blue robes with silver dragons. Yi Yun grimaced, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and forced him to stay on his feet. But right after he himself, ignoring all decorum, stepped toward Yi Hyun with a worried look.
“Was your trip fine? How is Father? Is everything all right?”
After his long years in the Great Qing, Yi Hyun was not accustomed to such direct expressions of feeling and was at a loss for a heartbeat. And wasn’t it he who should have been asking after his brothers’ health after that night?
He noticed the edge of a greyed bandage peeking from under the dark leather bracer on Yi Yun’s sleeve — apparently his arms had taken a beating.
“I haven’t seen him yet,” Yi Hyun replied, lowering his voice so as not to feed palace gossip. “I am fine. And you?”
“Fine,” something predatory flickered in Yi Yun’s crooked smile. “We gathered the evidence. The reinforcement turned out to be essential. Thank you.”
Suddenly it became crystal clear to Yi Hyun that his elder brother understood and shared his thoughts: who might hinder whom, and how to remove such obstacles. He had not expected the royal guard to show up.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I promised,” Yi Hyun answered with a strained smile. They absolutely had to speak frankly, in private, without dozens of watching eyes and ears.
“The king is ready to receive the prince!” came the shrill cry of a eunuch from inside the bedchamber, and the doors swung open.
The brothers exchanged glances. Yi Yun nodded and raised a hand, letting the younger Yi Hyun go first. In the eyes of the court, he was the one with the name and status. The nameless-as-of-yet vagabonds followed behind.
The king sat on a raised dais on his bed, separated from the hall by a semi-transparent curtain. Outside, morning was bright, but in the royal bedchamber a dim half-light reigned, heavy with the scent of herbs and thick incense. In the weak glow of floor lanterns the king’s silhouette in his tall hat and wide, gold-embroidered robes seemed unnaturally large.
As soon as the doors closed behind the princes, the king waved his hand, and two eunuchs hurried to lift the curtain. Approaching at the prescribed distance, Yi Hyun knelt on the prepared cushion and kneeled in a deep respectful bow. Yi Hwan — Cudgel — had already thrown himself flat on the floor somewhere near the doors and continued to tremble by the wall. Yi Yun remained standing in the middle of the hall, back straight, looking around. Had he really forgotten court protocol?
Yi Hyun cautiously turned his head and, still bent, shot an anxious look at his wild elder brother.
“How dare you?!” the chief eunuch cried. “Bow to His Majesty at once!”
Yi Yun frowned and took another step forward.
“Eunuch Cho, where is the king?” he asked the man in gold embroidery. “Is this but a test, or is he so ill he cannot receive us?”
The eunuch in disguise whom Yi Hyun had taken for his father jumped to his feet, pulled off the tall hat, bowed, and stepped aside. From behind the screen painted with sun and moon emerged a thin man in a white robe. He moved his feet slowly, leaning on the arm of an elderly, stooped servant. His sunken cheeks, dark circles, and unshaven stubble all spoke of a prolonged illness.
“Father!” Yi Yun exclaimed anxiously and jerked toward him, but, remembering propriety, dropped to his knees and froze in a bow. Yi Hyun watched the scene, lifting his head a little. So it really had been a test, and a successful one.
Yi Hyun felt a twinge of annoyance that he had been fooled and believed the deception, though he understood perfectly well that it was not aimed at him.
“Look at me,” the king ordered his eldest son in a creaking voice and hooked a dry finger under his chin. Yi Yun obediently raised his head.
For a while the king squinted, peering into his face, then nodded.
“It really is you, Yun-ah.”
Yi Yun let out a sob, grabbed the royal hand with both of his and pressed it to his forehead. Father had recognized him! His shoulders shook with sobs, he was unable to stop, the relief was too great.
The king stood motionless for a moment, then lifted his other hand and ruffled his newly reclaimed son’s hair.
“There, there, Yun,” he said. “It’s hard for me to stand. Let go of me. All of you, out. I wish to speak with my children!”
The servants slipped away, silently rustling with silks. Only the one the king leaned on remained. Yi Yun quickly loosened his grip and bowed his head again.
“How have you been, Your Majesty?” he asked hoarsely, remembering etiquette.
“Poorly,” the king replied with a crooked smile. “But today you have brought me an unexpected joy, children. And this must be my Hyun?”
Once more leaning on the servant’s arm, he shuffled forward. Yi Hyun recited the proper words of greeting and held out the small seal he had brought with him. On one hand it confirmed his birth. On the other — the small seal was meant for the heir’s use, and now that there were three of them…
“Tell me, Hyun, what have they taught you in Qing?” the king leaned closer, peering into his eyes. “You never answered my questions when I sent people to you.”
“I could not be sure I would not bring harm with my answers,” Yi Hyun replied. “I had to be careful. I beg your pardon.”
“I can understand,” the king nodded. “So what do you think of the annual tribute we send to the Great Qing? Are we not sending too little ginseng root? And what of their new state examinations?”
“Barbarians are trying to follow the example of the enlightened Ming dynasty, which they themselves destroyed,” Yi Hyun answered. “But the true heirs to the traditions of Ming are us, Joseon. Tribute disgraces and ruins the country. As soon as we are strong enough to resist it, we must stop bowing to the Manchus.”
Carried away, the prince had raised his voice, and, realizing it, he fell abruptly silent.
“Dangerous thoughts,” the king chided him, smiling in satisfaction, and pointed at the seal. “Keep it with you for now.”
That, of course, was not an official appointment, but it was approval and praise. And a promise of support on which Yi Hyun had been counting so much. With a bow, he tucked the seal back into his sleeve.
“And where is little Hwan?” the king asked, his voice trembling again. “Come closer, don’t make an old man hobble so far.”
Yi Hwan crawled toward him on all fours, not daring to raise his head.
“I am told you were brought up among slaves. Can you read, Hwan-ah?” the king asked.
Frightened and agitated, Hwan mumbled something unintelligible.
“What?” the king repeated.
“Hwan learned his letters together with the master’s son,” Yi Yun quickly spoke up in his defense. “He can write and count.”
Yi Hyun bit his lip. Clearly, life far from the palace had not done his elder brother any good. Speaking out of turn when the king was plainly addressing someone else looked rude. Worst of all, he did not even seem to realize his mistake.
The king paused again and addressed the trembling youth.
“So you can read, Hwan-ah?”
This time he managed to squeeze out a “Yes.” The king nodded and gestured toward his bed.
“Help your father reach the bed,” he ordered, so Hwan had to stand and take him by the elbow.
“I am glad to see you alive, children,” the king said once he had caught his breath and taken a sip of herbal brew. “You may straighten up, let us speak as a family. I would like to ask how you have lived, but my illness has tired me and I already want to sleep. So first, the most important matters. I cannot appoint a crown prince without a decree from Qing, so that question will wait. For now, I must rid myself of the Chief State Councilor, and thanks to you it seems that may be possible. Be careful — his arm is long.”
“I know most of his connections and hideouts,” Yi Yun could not restrain himself again. “If we hurry, he will not have time to slip away.”
“You can discuss that with Yeong San,” the king nodded graciously. “Since I can rely only on the Wangwisa now, he will be in charge of capturing the traitor. And you, Hyun, how can you be of use?”
“My knowledge of the Joseon court is shamefully small,” Yi Hyun replied, glad to have been asked. “But I have studied the court of the Great Qing thoroughly, enjoying the favor of the Prince Regent Rui, and I know all the high officials there, their habits and ambitions.”
“So, foreign policy and receiving envoys,” the king summed up. “We will soon have need of that. For now, try not to show them your independent views. They do you credit, but we have no army to back them.”
“I understand,” Yi Hyun bowed.
“As for you, my boy,” the king looked at Hwan, “you will greatly please me by devoting yourself to your studies. I will find you a tutor.”
“Th-thank you,” Hwan stammered.
“The tragedy that befell our family happened because everyone cared only for their own gain and quarrelled among themselves,” the king swept his sons with a heavy gaze. “At the time I was too weak to stop it. Now I order you: do not even think of rivalry. I will decide myself whom to name crown prince, but in any case you must support me and my decision.”
The princes bowed in unison. Except for Hwan, who had never fully straightened since the beginning.
