The Kite Fighters (6 page)

Young-sup carried an extra burden of worry as he walked alongside his brother. He had not told Kee-sup about his recent encounters with the King on the hillside.

The King had come out to fly with him several times, and Young-sup always looked forward to their meetings. At first he told himself that he did not wish to worry Kee-sup by talking about the King while the work on the kite was still progressing. But he knew in his heart that he secretly enjoyed his special friendship with the King, a friendship in which Kee-sup had no part.

As they approached the gates, Young-sup comforted himself with the knowledge that there would probably be other people at the court when they arrived and that the King would be speaking to him only as a subject. Perhaps he would not have to explain anything.

The immense gates opened wide, and the crowd of onlookers that always seemed to hover around the palace watched in surprise and envy as the three Lees were permitted entry. They were escorted across the huge outer court by a pair of guards, who stopped before a closed door.

Here the boys' father left them. "This is for you to do," he said, addressing Kee-sup. "I will see you at home." They bowed to him and watched as he crossed the courtyard to the outer gates.

With one of the guards the boys stepped into a small antechamber. The huge carved doors opposite them were opened by two other guards, revealing a grand hall. The boys barely had time for a quick gape at the splendid silk hangings and other priceless works of art before they spied the throne at the far end of the hall. At once they dropped to their knees.

"You may rise and approach." The King's voice seemed to echo down the long empty space.

The brothers got to their feet and walked toward the King. They saw that he was flanked by several advisers and guards.

When they were within a few paces of the throne, Kee-sup unwrapped the kite and laid it flat across his two hands. He held it out before him as he bowed his head.

The King glanced at it without apparent interest. Then he spoke loudly. "Go, all of you. Leave us." The adviser whom Young-sup knew from the hillside seemed to hesitate, but a glare from the King had him hastily retreating after the others.

The King waited until the huge carved doors had closed again. Then he hopped down off the throne and took the kite from Kee-sup's outstretched hands. His face shone with open delight.

"This is wonderful! Better than I could have imagined. Look at how it sparkles!" He tilted the kite to and fro for a few moments, then looked at Kee-sup. "This is even better than the tiger kites!"

Kee-sup stammered as he answered. "I—I am honored that Your Majesty is pleased with the kite."

Young-sup saw the startled look on Kee-sup's face and sensed at once the source of his brother's discomfort. He cleared his throat and addressed the King. "I
think you will have to command him, the same as you did with me."

"Oh, that. Yes, of course. Kee-sup, isn't it? Lee Kee-sup, when we are alone, you are not to address me as the King. Just act as if I'm any old—any old—"

"—pig-brain," Young-sup finished for him.

Kee-sup looked for a moment as though he might faint. But the King only laughed and gave Young-sup a shove.

"Who are you calling pig-brain, you cow-dung?"

Young-sup would have continued the banter, but one look at the shocked and confused expression on Kee-sup's face gave him pause.

"Brother, I'm sorry. The King has been coming to the hillside to fly with me. I meant to tell you....I just—I just never found the right moment." He looked at Kee-sup pleadingly. "It's all right, brother. We always make sure no one can hear us, like now. Besides"—and his joking tone returned—"what can I do? The King has commanded me to call him a pig-brain!"

At that Kee-sup laughed and appeared to relax, but Young-sup could see that he was still not entirely at ease.

The King, too, seemed to sense it, and began to
speak more seriously. "I am glad you came, because I've been thinking about something, and I need to talk to you—to both of you," he said. "Come."

He led them through a side door into a smaller room. There they sat on cushions around a low table. The King summoned a servant and ordered tea and sweets to be brought. The three boys ate and drank in silence. Then the King put his cup down.

"I want to talk to you about the New Year kite festival," he said.

***

The New Year holiday was in the next moon, and like the brothers themselves, the King was most excited about the kite festival. He was personally planning the events of the final day.

"I was thinking about competing in the festival myself," the King explained.

Young-sup felt a wave of panic. Would he have to fly against the King?

But the King was still speaking. "I decided not to, for a couple of reasons. First, I don't think I'm good enough yet. I can't launch by myself every time. And I need a lot more practice with fighting maneuvers. But that's not really the most important reason." He
paused, his face sober. "If I fly in the competition, I don't think anyone will try to beat me. I'm the King—so everyone will just let me win. It wouldn't be a real competition. Don't you agree?"

The brothers nodded; Young-sup had been thinking that very thing.

The King sighed. "But I still want to be part of it, somehow. I thought that even if I don't compete, perhaps my kite can." He looked at his companions expectantly. "Kee-sup, you have made the kite—a kite truly worthy of a King. It deserves to be in the competition."

Kee-sup bowed his head in appreciation.

"As for you, Young-sup—I want you to fly it for me. But I don't want anyone to know that you're my flier. If people find out, it would be the same as if I were flying it myself—no one would try to beat you."

Young-sup felt his heartbeat quicken. Blood rushed to his face, and he could sense that he must be as red as a peony blossom. He was dazzled by the thought. To fly for the King! It was an honor beyond imagining.

Through the haze of surprise, he heard Kee-sup's voice. "I speak for both my brother and myself when
I say that this could be kept a secret from all except our father. We could not keep such an honor and responsibility from him."

"Of course," the King answered at once. His voice grew thoughtful. "It is good that you feel such a duty to your father." Something about the way he said this reminded the other two that the King himself had no father, and for a moment the room was filled with a heavy silence.

"Well, then," the King said briskly. "It's agreed. Enough talk—let's go outside."

And he led the way through the palace, through room after vast room filled with wondrous treasures—jade carvings, ivory statues, enormous chests inlaid with mother-of-pearl. They saw no other people, except an occasional shadowy servant or a guard standing motionless by a door.

At last they reached the royal gardens. The King pulled something from his pocket and tossed it into the air, and the three boys at once began a rousing game of kick-the-shuttlecock.

The "cock" was a coin, wrapped around and about its central hole with strips of paper. The ends of these strips formed tassels that fluttered gaily and made a pleasant sound as the cock was kicked by the
side of the foot. The object was to try to keep the cock off the ground as long as possible without using one's hands.

The King proved to be a wizard at the game. He juggled the cock inside his foot, outside, on his knee, and back again, ten, twenty, thirty times without missing. After they had kicked the cock among them for a while, the King gave a solo demonstration. Kee-sup counted out loud for the King while Young-sup clowned around, trying to distract him. The rest of the afternoon passed without any thought or talk of kites or kingship. The brothers departed from the palace with a promise to come again soon.

On the way home Young-sup couldn't stop himself from enthusing over the splendor of the palace and the fun they had had. He did not speak of the honor that had been bestowed on him, although the thought never left his mind and seemed to float beneath his every word.

Soon, however, he noticed his brother's quietness.

"What is it, brother? Didn't you have a good time? Aren't you glad that the King was so pleased with the kite?"

Kee-sup nodded absently. "I wasn't thinking about
all that. I was thinking about how good he was at kicking the cock." He stopped walking and turned his head to look at the imposing wall of the palace in the distance behind them. Then he turned back and walked on, speaking almost to himself. "Shuttlecock ... a game you can play when you have no one to play with."

The brothers reached home just before dinner. As usual their mother served her husband and sons first; she and the girls would eat later. And as usual the meal was eaten in silence. It was considered good manners to give one's full attention to the food. So it was not until after eating that the boys had a chance to speak to their father.

They sat side by side on the floor in their father's room. Kee-sup told him how pleased the King had been with the kite and that they had drunk tea with him. Then he told of the King's plan for the New Year kite competition. He did not mention their growing friendship with the King; instinctively, both boys felt their father would have disapproved. He would have said that the King was their ruler, not their friend.

When Kee-sup finished speaking, their father folded his arms and looked over their heads, staring at nothing. The boys waited.

At last he spoke, addressing Young-sup. "You are to fly the kite. Was this commanded by the King?"

Young-sup hesitated. "I—I'm not sure, Father. No, it was not exactly a command. More like a request."

His father nodded. "His Majesty knows well the teachings of the master Confucius. In his youthful enthusiasm he may have forgotten."

His voice held a tone Young-sup had heard many times before. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if to quell the rising dread in his heart.

"Always the eldest son represents the family. When you next see the King, ask him if he would be so good as to grant my wish for Kee-sup to fly the kite at the festival." And he nodded toward the door to dismiss them.

***

The brothers did not look at each other as they walked toward their room. Kee-sup slid open the paper door and stepped inside. Young-sup closed the door behind them.

His face felt like a stone. Bitterness rose through
him until he could taste it in his mouth. He could not rage as he wished, for the paper walls were thin, but he spoke in a low voice forced out between his set jaws.

"Always you."

Kee-sup took a deep breath, but Young-sup was still speaking. "
You
get to go to the mountains.
You
get a kite for New Year.
You
fly the kite at the festival. You—you—you!"

"Brother, I—"

"Nothing else matters! Second son—what's that? I might as well be a dog! I don't matter to him—he doesn't care anything about me." Young-sup took care not to raise his voice, but his rage was bubbling over now.

"That's not true! He bought the seventh kite for you—" Too late Kee-sup cut off his words.

Young-sup's fury was interrupted in mid-flow. "The seventh kite? You mean, that day at the market? The day I won the reel?" He could hear his own voice, pitched high in shock and confusion. "No, he couldn't have. I remember—it was a little boy who bought the last kite. I saw him myself"

"The money," Kee-sup explained, misery in his face. "It was our father who gave the boy the money for the kite."

Young-sup blinked and shook his head quickly, as if waking. Then he looked squarely at his brother. "Because
you
asked him to." There was no answer. "I'm right, aren't I? He didn't do it for me—he did it because it was what
you
wanted."

Young-sup clenched his fists and stiffened his body, as if the anger in him were a pain he could no longer bear. Then he swung around and seized the first thing that caught his eye—the ceramic jar that had once held the gold leaf. He hurled it to the floor with all his strength and fled from the room.

***

The next morning the boys did not speak to each other. They studied their lessons side by side, as they always did, but even their tutor noticed the tension between them. Young-sup's responses were dull and mechanical, and Kee-sup's so absent-minded that the tutor scolded them both.

For Young-sup, learning the teachings of Confucius and the events of Korean history was not as important as it was for his brother. Young-sup knew he was expected to take over his father's business as a rice merchant. Merchants did not have as much need of education as courtiers. Still, Young-sup studied at his
fathers insistence, to keep Kee-sup company and help him whenever possible.

Young-sup usually enjoyed the challenge of learning by heart the words on the scrolls. Today, though, he felt drained of all interest, and it seemed that Kee-sup felt the same way. Finally the tutor spoke sternly. "There is no desire for learning in either of you," he announced. "You are both to study this lesson again and be ready to recite it to me tomorrow."