Tuấn Cao-Đắc (Danlambao) - The following is the short story “THE ABSOLUTE TRUTH” (Cao-Đắc 2014, 88-106) in the short story collection “FIRE IN THE RAIN,” written by Tuấn Cao-Đắc and published by Hellgate Press, Oregon, U.S.A. The book is available from the Websites of Hellgate Press (www.hellgatepress.com), Amazon, and other booksellers. Every story in “FIRE IN THE RAIN” is accompanied by relevant historical and factual notes. This is a copyrighted material. The author has the publisher’s approval to send the story for publication on Danlambao Website. The Vietnamese version is translated from the English original text, “FIRE IN THE RAIN,” and has additional notes on spelling (for example, diễn hành/ diễu hành, phản ánh/ phản ảnh, xụp đổ/ sụp đổ, sử dụng/ xử dụng, lập lại/ lặp lại) and the translation approach of the translator, also the author.
*
The absolute truth
The Years 1284-1285
Thăng Long, Fall of 1284
The eunuch knew something grave had happened when Emperor Thiệu Bảo Trần Khâm asked him not to allow any court servants to follow him and his father, Grand Emperor (Thái Thượng Hoàng) Bảo Phù Trần Hoàng, during their walk in the rock garden. Thiệu Bảo and Bảo Phù were their respective reigning names. Emperor Thiệu Bảo and his father seldom discussed court matters outside the meeting chamber, and they had never strolled in the rock garden without servants following them. This was the first time the Emperor had made such a request. Judging from their faces before they started their walk, the eunuch knew that the Emperor and his father had troubled thoughts in their mind.
The news had been publicly known for several months. The Mongols of the Yuan dynasty were preparing a huge invasion into Đại Việt. This would be their second invasion. The first one occurred twenty-six years ago. But the invasion had been brief. The Mongols had been driven out of Đại Việt after only half a month of occupation. This time, it appeared they were going to launch a major attack. Rumors said that Toghan, son of Kublai Khan, the Great Khan of the Mongols and the founder of the Yuan Dynasty, commanded an army of three hundred thousand men, which planned to invade Đại Việt in a few months. His force would be joined by the Mongolian army from the South, led by Sogetu, the Governor of Canton in China, who had been trying to capture Champa in the past few years without success.
The eunuch closed the entrance door of the rock garden and hushed the curious maids and servants. He signaled to them to leave; then he sat on a chair at the entrance door and watched the two Emperors walking on the garden pathway.
The rock garden was located on the east side of the Palace inside the Thăng Long citadel. It was constructed at Khâm’s request as a place for him to find tranquility after a long tiring day at court. Consistent with his enthusiasm for Buddhism, the design of the garden was simple, but exhibited a spiritual purity. At its center stood a cluster of three rocks representing the Buddha, Buddhist teachings, and Buddhist followers. A winding pathway made of small stones ran along the periphery of the garden and encircled the rocks. The pathway had no entrance and no exit, symbolizing the basic Buddhist philosophy about life having no beginning and no end. Small well-trimmed plants grew along the pathway. Half a dozen small wooden benches were scattered around. Two of the benches stood next to a small pond with crystal clear water covered by several white lotuses floating on the surface.
Khâm usually took a leisurely walk on the pathway after a tiring day of presiding over the court. This afternoon, his father visited him for an important discussion. Although not a reigning emperor, the Grand Emperor had a significant influence on his son on court matters.
Having been enthroned six years earlier at the age of twenty, Khâm had grown to be a mature and experienced Emperor of Đại Việt. He could run his court efficiently without the help of his father, but following family tradition he routinely sought his father’s advice on matters that were important to the country. According to the royal tradition started by his grandfather, Emperor Trần Thái Tông, when the crown prince was judged capable of reigning or when the current Grand Emperor passed away, the reigning Emperor would abdicate his throne to the crown prince and become the Grand Emperor. The Grand Emperor would still be active in court matters and would be available for consultation. The tradition served two purposes: the first was to provide the new Emperor a transition period to ease him into assuming the new responsibilities as the supreme leader of the land, and the second, perhaps more important purpose, was to prevent rivalries among siblings or court officials. With the former Emperor still active in court matters, anybody who wanted to challenge the new Emperor would have to think twice.
Khâm was a highly competent leader. At twenty-six, he had already shown his talents and virtues as a sage Emperor. His father, Hoàng, had also been a wise and intelligent ruler. Together, the father-and-son emperors had been reigning for six years with no sign of decline for many years to come.
The two had been walking on the pathway for a while without saying a word. It was their habit. They would typically start a discussion after a period of calmness. After a while, Hoàng sat down on a bench next to the rocks. Khâm stopped walking and stood on the pathway, clasping his hands in front of him. It might be an unusual scene for a reigning Emperor to take such a respectful posture, but not for a Trần Emperor when he was showing respect to his father.
“Sit down, son,” Hoàng said, gesturing toward the opposite bench.
“With your permission, Father.” Khâm made a slight bow and sat down.
“How is the court business today?” Hoàng asked.
“Father, there was nothing really significant except that Quốc công Tiết chế reported that he received a letter from the King of Champa about the progress of their fight against Sogetu.”
Quốc công Tiết chế Trần Quốc Tuấn was the older brother of Khâm’s mother and Khâm’s father-in-law. He was also the most revered military commander in the Trần court.
“What did the letter say?”
“Father, the King of Champa said that Sogetu’s troops are exhausted and may not have the spirit to fight after a long struggle in Champa land.”
“That’s good.”
Hoàng’s expression was reflective. He looked older than his age of forty-four. Beneath the royal hat, strands of white hair overhung his wrinkled forehead. But his alert eyes shone bright.
“Father, is there anything troubling you?” Khâm asked.
Hoàng nodded. “Yes, I am worried about Kublai Khan’s plan.”
“We already know what his plan is. He wants Toghan to attack us from the north and Sogetu from the south.”
“Yes, and how do we prepare for it?”
“Since the Bình Than conference, Quốc công Tiết chế and other Lords have been preparing for a solid defense, by organizing our army and training our soldiers. I have been monitoring all activities and am pleased with the progress. Our troop review at Port Đông Tân was very impressive.”
“I have no question about the capabilities of our Generals and the morale of our troops, but I still don’t know if we can prepare for the invasion. The Mongols are well known for their ferocity and skilled fighters.”
“Father, we expelled them twenty-six years ago.”
“My son, Khâm, you were born soon after the Mongols retreated. You don’t know what it was like when they invaded us then.”
“You told me about it. I know they are ferocious and skillful, but they are only good on horses. They can’t fight well on mountains and rivers. We know that for a fact because we sent our troops to assist the Champa in their defense against them.”
Hoàng let out a long sigh. “That’s exactly what I am worried about.”
Khâm looked perplexed. “Father, what do you mean?”
Hoàng gazed at his son. “We have to resort to a prolonged war with them to wear them down. It may take two or three years, like in Champa. What do our people do in those years? How do we protect the innocent people from their pillaging? The last time they were here, they massacred all the Thăng Long residents. I don’t want the same thing to be repeated.”
Khâm lowered his head to hide his frown. Father is right. How do we protect the innocent people from the savagery of a cruel war? He had been told stories about the massacre and the pillaging, and it had bothered him for quite some time. Deep down, he didn’t want to wage war with the Mongols, but at the same time, he couldn’t accept their demands because he knew they just wanted to annex Đại Việt to be part of their expansive territory.
“Father, what should we do?” he asked.
Hoàng put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I know you are troubled too. I have been thinking about it for several days and I have come up with an idea.”
Khâm’s eyes brightened. “Father, what is it?”
“I told you once about the basic principle of a government. It is the principle of ruling according to the will of the people.”
“I understand.” He did understand, at least in theory. He had heard his father say that more than once, not just to him, but also to the Trần Lords and the high-ranking mandarins. He knew the people were the core of the government.
Hoàng’s face turned solemn. He looked his son in the eye. “Son, do you know the will of the people regarding the invasion of the Mongols?”
Khâm was startled. He was not prepared to answer such a question. To him, the will of the people was delegated to the Emperor, who was supposed to be chosen according to the mandate of Heaven. Don’t I, by virtue of being chosen as the Emperor, represent the will of the people? Why do I need to know the will of the people?
Hoàng smiled. “I know it’s a hard question for you. I’ve struggled over that question myself. Lately, I’ve had more time to devote to the study of our history and philosophy and I have come up with many interesting ideas.”
“Father, I am listening.”
Hoàng cleared his throat. “We have always been taught to think that an Emperor is selected according to the mandate of Heaven and if he loses the mandate of Heaven, another person will be selected to replace him. It is Heaven that bestows the power, wisdom and opportunity to allow an Emperor to ascend to his throne.”
“Father, do we have the mandate of Heaven to rule the land?” Khâm asked. The question came out unexpectedly, even startling him. It was a question he had never asked his father, but it was one he had always wanted answered.
Hoàng thought for a moment and said, “Son, I don’t know. I like to believe that we have the mandate of Heaven to rule the land. Your grandfather reigned for thirty-two years. I reigned for twenty years. You have reigned for six years so far. Other than the outside interferences, the country has been in peace. People prosper. Productivity is high. It seems that we are doing something right.”
He paused to collect his thoughts. “But it doesn’t mean that we fulfilled our mission. From what I’ve been reading and thinking, it seems that the traditional concept of the mandate of Heaven may be incomplete. I believe that we are selected to be Emperor, whether by an uprising, a usurpation of power, or by lineage succession, not because we already met some requirements, but because we are entrusted with a mission. And that mission is to act in accordance with the will of the people of the land. If an Emperor does not represent the will of the people, or is deemed not capable of doing that, he will be removed so that another person has a chance to fulfill that mission.”
“How do we know the will of the people?”
Hoàng drew a pensive look. “I haven’t thought about it carefully yet. I have read books and treatises written by many scholars, but so far I haven’t learned anything about it. Trying to know the will of the people has never been done before. Not in Đại Việt, not in China, not in any other countries in the imperial world with the same form of government we have.”
“Father, forgive me for saying this, but have you thought of the reason nobody has written about it? Could it be because it’s not a good idea?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ve read an ancient book about forms of government by the ancient Athenians and the Romans about representing the people. So, the idea of using the will of the people in governing the country is not totally new. It has to be a good idea because their governments lasted for a long time. But their customs and traditions are different than ours. What I haven’t found out is how to know the will of the people to uphold the mandate of Heaven in an imperial government of kings and emperors.”
“Maybe because the two forms are incompatible. It’s like trying to shoot fire arrows in water.”
Hoàng laughed. “Very good. Your analogy is very descriptive.”
He turned serious. “But it may be too simple. I think the problem is a lot more complex than that. I spent time studying deeper in the teachings of Buddhism and I found something really amazing.”
“Father, please enlighten me.”
Hoàng pointed to the lotus-covered pond. “As you know, Buddhism teaches the relationship between cause and effect. The lotus is a plant that flowers and seeds at the same time. It represents the simultaneous existence of cause and effect. Attaining the level of Buddhahood, the ninth consciousness, is to be able to intertwine the cause and effect to maintain pure consciousness.
“The mandate of Heaven can be viewed as a form of such fundamentally pure consciousness where cause and effect exist simultaneously. It dictates the conduct of the ruler. If a ruler doesn’t rule according to this prescribed conduct, he will be overthrown by the people. So, his conduct is the cause of the people’s will. At the same time, the rise of a ruler is propelled by the people. Without the support of the people, a ruler cannot succeed in attaining or keeping his throne. So, the people’s will is the cause of his success as a ruler, which in turned is maintained by his conduct. In other words, the ruler’s conduct or his success and the people’s will co-exist as cause and effect of each other.”
Khâm was astonished. He was led from one surprise to the next. The clarity of his father’s words was like that of a crystal. Their profoundness was like the ocean’s depth. He was thrilled and happy.
“Father,” he said, “we have to find a way to know the will of the people.”
Hoàng nodded. “Yes, we must. We have to know what the people of Đại Việt want to do with the Yuan. I don’t want to see the mothers crying for the loss of their children, the wives for their husbands, because of actions from us that are contrary to their wishes.”
Khâm stood up. He stepped on the pathway to pick up a fallen leaf. A bird flew by, perched on the top of a trembling branch of a plant, chirped a short tune, and flew away. The melancholic sound of its song lingered in the air. Khâm pondered on the bird song that he didn’t understand. What did the bird say? How could he understand its language when he was a human being and the bird was an animal? He recalled that his teacher once said, “One must see into true nature in order to become Buddha.” To become Buddha was to achieve the absolute truth. But if nature didn’t express itself in a tangible manner that he could understand, then how could he see into true nature? How was true nature related to ruling people? The link had to be the existence of the land and the survival of the people on the land. Seeing into nature was to know the will of the people or understand the people in order for the people to survive and prosper. It was the absolute truth.
A story told by his teacher flashed through his mind. It was a conversation between the Buddha and Vassakara, an envoy sent by King Ajatasattu of the state of Magadha. In response to Vassakara’s question about whether King Ajatasattu should launch an attack on the state of Vajjian, the Buddha said,
“As long as the Vajjians hold regular and frequent meetings, disperse peacefully in concord, carry on their affairs in concord, and respect the elders and listen to them, not only will they never decline, but they will prosper.”
Of course!
Khâm turned around, his eyes shining. “Father, we will just ask them a direct question.”
“How will you ask them?”
“We will organize a congress attended by the people and we will ask them how they want to deal with the Yuan.”
“A people’s congress?”
“Yes, Father, it’s a gathering of the people,” Khâm said, his tone rapid, his face beaming. “Only the common people attend. There will be no mandarins, no court officials, no government representatives. We will follow the decision of the majority of the people. We will do what they want. We will uphold the mandate of Heaven by following the will of the people.”
“How many people are you going to invite?”
“We can’t invite everybody because it is not practical to do so. We will invite only the elders, those who have lived long enough to know what they and their families want. They represent the people.”
Hoàng was quiet for a short while, and then said, “It’s an excellent idea. I like it very much. It will be the first time in the history of the imperial world that such a congress of the people of the land is organized.”
He made a slight bow to his son. “Your Majesty, may I have the honor to host the feast for this unprecedented occasion?”
Thăng Long, 1284
The drumbeats had been going on for a while. At first, nobody paid any attention, but as the beats dragged on, the people’s curiosity increased. They talked among themselves and decided to go out to the temple at the village entrance.
Old Phú was playing a chess game with his friend Khánh when he heard the annoying sounds of the drumbeats. He tried to concentrate on his next move. But the sounds became more and more irritating.
“What’s going on out there?” he grumbled.
A young boy, his grandson, ran inside. “The Court official is going to read the Grand Emperor’s edict.”
It was unusual for the Court to send its officials to the village. Everything was done by the village chief.
“Let’s go and find out what it is,” Old Khánh said and rose up from the floor mat.
Phú reluctantly put on his slippers and followed Khánh outside.
High above the ground, an official in a blue silk dress sat on a chair with a solemn face. He was reading aloud from a piece of bamboo-rimmed silk paper. A crowd gathered around him.
Phú jostled through the crowd to move closer to the official.
The official paused and looked up at the crowd. He swept his eyes over the audience and was content to see the anxious faces.
He looked down at the paper to continue reading. “Now it’s time for us to decide on how to respond. The question is whether we should yield to the Yuan’s demand in a form of surrendering or fight against them. I hereby request your reply to the question as soon as possible. The elders, those above the age of sixty-five, are invited to the Hall of Diên Hồng to voice your opinions on the twelfth day of the twelfth month in the hour of the Horse. Seal of Grand Emperor Bảo Phù.”
A series of drumbeats rose, signaling the end of the announcement. The official gestured to his soldiers standing below. They immediately nailed a piece of paper containing the Grand Emperor’s edict on the wooden board near the gate of the temple. This was for those who missed the public announcement.
The crowd dispersed quickly.
“I don’t understand what this means,” Phú said while walking home with Khánh.
Khánh frowned. “What don’t you understand? You and I are invited to attend the congress about how to deal with the Yuan.”
“I know that. I heard what he read. But what I don’t understand is why us? What do we know about surrendering to the Yuan or fighting against them?”
“I am surprised about that too. I’ve never heard of anything like that. The court is soliciting our advice?”
“There is something fishy about this.”
“What do you suspect?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe they plan to surrender and will report anyone who wants to fight to the Yuan.”
Khánh laughed. “But why only us and not the younger ones? What do the Yuan gain by catching a bunch of old people?”
While Old Phú and Khánh were arguing about the real intention of the court for inviting them to the People’s Congress, all over Thăng Long citadel and nearby districts, hundreds of people, old and young, were engaged in more serious discussions as soon as they read the posted notices or listened to the announcement.
Sixty-seven-year-old Mưu had not been feeling well in the past few days, but the edict of Grand Emperor Bảo Phù Trần Hoàng excited him. He thought about it all day. In the evening, he summoned his four children and their wives and husband to his room.
“You all know about Grand Emperor’s edict, right?” Mưu asked, looking at Thọ, his oldest son.
Thọ nodded. “Yes, Father. We have been talking about it all day at the rice paddy.”
“Do you want to surrender or fight?”
Thọ glanced at his siblings and in-laws. “I personally want to fight, but some of our men prefer to surrender. They don’t want to lose their harvest.”
“Why do you want to fight?”
“We cannot let the Yuan occupy our land. They will not give us freedom and they will rob us.”
“What if we lose? If we lose, they will occupy our land anyway and may even exact punishment from us for forcing them to fight.”
“I’d rather fight and lose than surrender without knowing. If we fight, we have a chance to win. If we surrender, we have no chance to win.”
Mưu nodded with delight. Thọ had fought in the Trần army during the Mongolian attack the first time. He knew what it was like. Mưu turned to his other children.
“I think we should surrender,” Trương, his youngest son, said.
“Why?”
“Anh Thọ’s reason is based on a chance to win, but if we want a sure easy life, then by surrendering we will be sure that our life is spared. By fighting, we may antagonize the Mongols, and if we lose they will massacre us again like last time.”
Thọ shook his head. “No, you are wrong. Surrendering is cowardly; it shows them our weakness. Surrendering does not give you a sure easy life. We know the Chinese. They have wanted to rob us for centuries. Even if we surrender, they will still put yokes and shackles on us, collect taxes, enslave us, and force us to do hard labor in the jungles, mountains, and mines. They will take rare rocks, gold, jewels, animals, intellectuals, and beautiful girls back to their land.”
“The Mongolians are not Chinese.”
“They are the same.”
“At least they will spare our lives.”
“We don’t know that. Besides, what good is it to live as a slave?”
“What good is it to die and leave your wife a widow and your children orphans?”
“If I die fighting the enemy, my wife will be proud of me. My children will be proud of me. They will grow up to be strong.”
Mưu intervened. “Stop arguing. I’ve heard enough.”
He gave Trương a scornful look. “Trương, I am disappointed in you. You are the youngest, only twenty-four, and you have already lost your courage. Your brother is right. What good is it to live as a slave? You lose your freedom and you lose your dignity. Don’t forget that we are the descendants of the Dragon and Fairy who never bend down before the enemy.”
The Hall of Diên Hồng, Thăng Long, Late January, 1285
It was not the hour of the Horse yet, but the feast preceding the congress had already reached its peak. It was a remarkable scene. Throngs of people converged on the Diên Hồng Hall from almost every street in Thăng Long. Carriages arrived one at a time, dropping the guests off at the entrance gate. The front lawn of the Diên Hồng Hall was nearly filled with guests. Thousands of old men, in various outfits, sat upon row after row of wooden benches running across the huge lawn. This was the first time they had attended a royal feast and seen the Grand Emperor in person. Some were in peasant clothing with brown turbans on their heads. Court servants and guards strode back and forth, ushering the guests to the seats. Some patiently held the hands of men who could only take slow steps, leading them to their special seats, around separate tables, reserved for people with mobility difficulties.
At the drumbeats announcing the hour of the Horse, the feast started. Courtiers carried large trays of roast duck, boiled chicken, pork chops, grilled beef, steamed fish, and all sorts of delicacies. The courtiers put the trays on the tables in front of the guests who were in awe at the sight of the delicious food that some of them had never eaten before. Some men quickly grabbed their chopsticks but dropped them on the tables when the court servants gave them admonishing stares.
“Please wait for the Grand Emperor,” they said.
Huge jugs of wine and juice were placed at the ends of the tables, next to lacquered teapots, plates, cups, and ivory chopsticks.
High above the ground, in front of the guests, sat a long table on a dais for the family of the Grand Emperor. A series of drumbeats started and a court official in a colorful dress announced loudly, “The Grand Emperor and His Grand Majesty’s family.”
Everybody stood up and heads turned to the entrance leading to the dais. Grand Emperor Trần Hoàng led a column of men and women in royal costumes. Hoàng dressed simply. He wore a tight blue robe and a white cap. His face beamed. He waved to the crowd with a big grin on his face. The Đại Việt elders were delighted to see him for the first time; it had been twenty-six years since the day he ascended to the throne. He was no longer a seal on the royal edict. He was there in the flesh and smiling kindly at them.
He stood on a platform, his eyes shining, his voice amazingly loud and clear. “Dear elders of Đại Việt, I, representing the court of Đại Việt, would like to welcome you to the Diên Hồng Congress, the congress of the people and for the people of Đại Việt. Let the feast begin. Please indulge yourself with good food and fine wine.”
The feast started immediately after his brief welcome speech. The elders, not used to good food but excited with the historical moment of the first congress ever held in an imperial court, ate and drank heartily. They began engaging in conversations with each other. Some talked about their grandchildren, their harvests, their life, but most of them focused their conversations on the question that brought them all together.
Old Phú had never had such a good meal in his life. He ignored all the loud arguments around him and took one bite and then another. Putting down his chopsticks, he gulped the sweet white wine. Heavens! Where do they get this kind of wine?
“Do you think we should surrender?” an elder sitting in front of him asked.
“Definitely,” Phú said. “How do we fight against three hundred thousand men?”
“Are there really that many of them?”
“The number is exaggerated,” Old Khánh said, joining the conversation. “They spread rumors to scare us.”
“It doesn’t matter how many men they have. They are not going to return empty-handed like they did the last time.”
Mưu, sitting next to Phú, frowned. “Old man, how can you say such a thing? Are you going to let them massacre us like last time?”
“They will not massacre us if we surrender.”
“Do you really think so? How can you be that naïve?”
Others joined in. “I am not going to surrender.”
“They are not going to touch my land.”
“My children will join the army to fight them.”
Opinions differed, as they explained, analyzed, argued, and counter-argued. Old speeches were quoted; historical poems were recited.
By the end of the hour of the Horse, the banquet had ended. Dozens of courtiers came out and removed all the jugs of wine, trays, food plates, and chopsticks, but left the teapots and cups on the table. The elders sipped tea in silence. They had already made a decision on the question soon to be raised by the Grand Emperor.
After two loud drumbeats, Hoàng reappeared on the platform. Still with the same kind smile and the same strong, clear voice, he said, “The elders of Đại Việt, I hope you had a wonderful time with good food and fine wine. We will now begin our discussions on the question of national importance that may decide the fate of the great country of Đại Việt.”
The court servants ushered the elders to a flat lot adjacent to the lawn. They formed circles surrounding a high terrace with stairs on its sloping sides. The lot was smaller but the space was efficiently utilized because there were no tables or benches.
It was past noon. The sun rose high in the sky, sending bright rays that warmed the earth on this day of the twelfth lunar month of the year. Flanked by four guards, Hoàng strode from the lawn to the terrace. The elders stepped aside to make room for him to walk up. He climbed up on the stairs and waved the guards away.
Standing under the shade of a huge umbrella, Hoàng swept his eyes across the elders surrounding him. He saw bony faces, hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, white hair, wrinkled skin, missing teeth, bent backs. In a flash, he felt distressed at what he saw. Are these the people of Đại Việt? Are these people the ones who will make a decision that would affect all lives and later generations of the country? But soon, a sense of shame overcame him when he was reminded that many years ago, these had been the peasants, the farmers, the growers, the merchants, the craftsmen, the soldiers who had worked hard to support their families, to raise their children, to protect their lands. If they were not the people of Đại Việt, who were?
As he looked around, he caught a glimpse of three silhouettes on horses on a hilltop in the distance. The silhouettes looked familiar, but he couldn’t place them. He turned to the elders standing around him with anxious faces. It was time for him to speak.
He raised his voice. “Đại Việt elders, you represent the wisdom of the Đại Việt people. You are here today to participate in a momentous decision for our country. Regardless of the outcome of today’s congress, you are thanked for coming here. I thank you. The Trần court thanks you. The country thanks you.”
He paused. “The Mongolians of the Yuan Dynasty are now preparing to invade our country. The Great Khan of the Mongolians and the founder of the Yuan Dynasty, Kublai Khan, has entrusted the invasion mission to his son, Toghan, who will lead an army of one hundred thousand troops supported by two hundred thousand laborers and logistics personnel to enter Đại Việt from the North. This great army will be joined by the army led by General Sogetu from the South. We are now in danger of being attacked from both prongs. We have been preparing to defend our country. The Emperor, Quốc công Tiết chế Trần Quốc Tuấn, and Thượng tướng Thái sư Trần Quang Khải, together with other Lords and Generals, have been mobilizing, training, and organizing our troops in the past two years. We will defend our country against savage people from the North, in the spirit of the Trưng sisters, Lady Triệu, Lý Nam Đế, Ngô Quyền, Lê Đại Hành, and Lý Thường Kiệt. However, as many of you may still remember, twenty-six years ago, the Mongolians crushed our army in their first invasion and occupied Thăng Long. The royal court and our army had to withdraw to the South to avoid bloodshed. The Mongolians burned houses and killed innocent people during their occupation. Thanks to Heaven, the tide was turned against them. The Mongolians suffered diseases and lack of food and supplies, so they had to withdraw to their land. But it’s a lesson we will never forget.
“Now, they are coming back again, with the same intention, except that this time they are much more powerful and better equipped. They demand us to comply with their request to allow them to use our land in their expedition to the Kingdom of Champa. But it is clearly a pretext for them to invade our country with the plan to annex the country of Đại Việt to their territory.
He paused. “We have only two choices. In the first choice, we agree to comply with their demands and let them occupy our land. In other words, we surrender to them. In the second choice, we stand united to fight against them, to expel them from our land. You are here to make that decision. You are here to tell the Emperor, Quốc công Tiết chế Trần Quốc Tuấn and Thượng tướng Thái sư Trần Quang Khải what to do. Whatever you decide, the Emperor will follow. The Emperor will listen to your advice, follow your wisdom, and agree to your decision. It is the will of the people that governs the land of the people.”
He raised his voice. “You, the elders of Đại Việt, will now have a chance to speak. Tell us whether you want to surrender or to fight.”
Low voices and whispers began to spread in the crowd.
“I say we fight till death.”
“Let’s fight.”
“We can’t fight them.”
“Surrender is the best course of action.”
“They will kill all of us if we fight them.”
“We can’t let them rob our land.”
“I’d rather die than live with them.”
Hoàng raised his hand. “Let’s hear what you have to say. Please speak louder. Do you want to surrender or to fight?”
Loud voices scattered in the crowd. Fists raised in the air.
“Let’s fight.”
“Kill them.”
“Fight.”
“Surrender.”
“Fight.”
The few of those who had expressed their wish to surrender awkwardly looked at each other. They hadn’t expected to be such a tiny minority. They didn’t know whether they should continue shouting for surrender or change their votes. Old Phú looked around him, but quickly avoided the glaring stares from others. He touched his chin and bobbed his head, as if he were thinking hard.
Hoàng shouted, his voice loud and strong. “I can’t hear you. Surrender or fight?”
The crowd became agitated. The hollow eyes brightened. The bent backs straightened up. The mouths with missing teeth opened wide. The tiny minority decided there was no point in maintaining their votes. The majority had won and they’d better switch sides. Old Phú raised his arm.
“Fight!”
“Fight!”
“Fight!”
The voices now became one. They shouted at the same time with the same rhythm. Their fists tightened. Their eyes shone. They punched the air at each shout.
Hoàng shouted, “Surrender or Fight?”
“Fight!”
“Surrender or Fight?”
“Fight!”
“Surrender or Fight?”
“Fight!”
The white-haired old men, most of them in their seventies, turned into an enraged crowd. It was as if they had accumulated their anger inside them for so long that it was time to release their fury. Their eyes shone brighter and brighter. Their arms lifted higher and higher. Their voices grew louder and louder at each shout. Soon, thousands of voices turned into one single thunderous roar, repeated with the same force over and over. “Fight!” The booming sound blasted the sky, echoing around the citadel, ripping the air.
Excitement overwhelmed Hoàng. He hadn’t expected such a response. He stood still on the terrace, letting the roar of thousands of voices strike him. The courtiers, the guards, the servants stood in jaw-dropping shock, watching the crowd with stunned faces. It was a scene they had never seen before. Even marching soldiers in military parades would not be able to produce such a powerful and perfectly synchronized succession of earsplitting shouts.
The sounds reverberated all over Thăng Long citadel, spread through the inner streets and reached the outer periphery where common people lived. People stopped their activities and looked toward the Palace with startled faces. They knew about the Diên Hồng Congress and were aware of the Grand Emperor’s edict. But they hadn’t expected to hear the voices of the elders in such a spectacular explosion.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
The shouts pulsated the air with a distinct rhythmic pattern, like the awe-inspiring drumbeats urging the soldiers in a bloody battlefield, the powerful thunders tearing the earth in a furious storm, the monstrous waves pummeling the waters in an angry sea. Dignified and majestic.
From the distance, on top of the hill, the three horsemen heard the deafening screams.
Flanked on two sides by Trần Quốc Tuấn and Trần Quang Khải, Emperor Thiệu Bảo Trần Khâm smiled, as tears rolled down his face.
*
HISTORICAL AND FACTUAL NOTES
The following is taken from Cao-Đắc (2014, 349-350).
THE ABSOLUTE TRUTH (1284-1285)
The influence of Buddhism on the Trần court is well known (Nguyen 2009, 125-161). The founder of the Trần Dynasty, Trần Thái Tông, was the author of at least five books on Buddhism. Trần Khâm (Nhân Tông) was the founder of the Trúc Lâm Sect after leaving his royal life. It is unclear whether the Trần Emperors applied the principles of Buddhism to advance a democratic government, but there is evidence of this influence. The History of Buddhism in Vietnam (Nguyen 2009, 131) notes that thoughts such as ‘being cordial with the people,’ considering the people as the ‘root,’ were materialized in Nhân Tông’s or Trần Hưng Đạo’s speeches and had already been expressed in Trúc Lâm’s advice given to Trần Thái Tông in 1236: ‘When one is King he must make his the people’s will and must make his the people’s heart.’ (Preface of Thiền Tông Chỉ Nam, Khóa Hư Lục). In one story (Narada 1991, 129-130), when asked about the state of Vajjian, the Buddha declared that (1) as long as the Vajjians met frequently and held many meetings; (2) as long as they met together in unity, rose in unity and performed their duties in unity; . . .; (4) as long as they supported, respected, venerated and honored the Vajjian elders, and paid regard to their worthy speech . . . – the Vajjians would be expected not to decline, but to prosper.
The Diên Hồng people’s congress is recorded in several historical documents. ĐVSKTT (II:53) notes that “[t]he Grand Emperor summoned the elders to meet at the courtyard of the Diên Hồng hall, hosted a feast, and asked them for advice on fighting the enemy. All elders said ‘fight,’ thousands of them shouted in unison, like coming out from a single voice.” Ngô Sĩ Liên comments: “The two emperors and their mandarins discussed the matter. How could they not come up with a plan to fight the enemy, and have to give a feast to ask advice from the elders? It’s because Trần Hoàng (Thánh Tông) wanted to test the people’s hearts, and also to bolster their enthusiasm” (ĐVSKTT, II:53). However, the question posed to the elders at Diên Hồng was not on the specific plan to fight the Yuans, but whether Đại Việt should honor the Yuans’ request (i.e., surrender) or fight back. The preparation for the defense had been going on for two years before the actual invasion, and it appeared that the Trần court was ready to defend the land. So, what was the real purpose of the Diên Hồng People’s Congress? One can only surmise that Trần Thánh Tông wanted to ensure that Nhân Tông and the Trần Lords’ preparation for the imminent war was consistent with the people’s wishes. It is also possible that the Trần Emperors wanted to use the voice of the elders as a propaganda tool to rally the people in preparation for the defense of the country. However, since the Diên Hồng People’s Congress was organized only once (in fact it was the only such people’s congress in the history of Vietnam), it appears that the Trần Emperors didn’t plan to use it as a propaganda tool.
LIST OF REFERENCES
(Edited for this excerpt.)
Cao-Đắc, Tuấn. 2014. Fire in the Rain. Hellgate Press, Oregon, U.S.A.
ĐVSKTT. Ngô Sĩ Liên. 2004. Đại Việt Sử Ký Toàn Thư (ĐVSKTT), “Nội các quan bản" edition (1697). Dựa trên Lê Văn Hưu, Phan Phu Tiên; Vũ Quỳnh, Phạm Công Trứ, and Lê Hy bổ sung. Dịch và ghi chú bởi Ngô Đức Thọ (Quyển I), Hoàng Văn Lâu (Quyển II & III) (1697), Quyển I, II, and III, Khoa Học Xã Hội, Hà Nội, Việt Nam
Narada, Mahathera. 1991. The Buddha and His Teachings. Hoa Nghiem Buddhist Monastery. California, U.S.A.
Nguyen Tai Thu (Chief Ed.). 2009. The History of Buddhism in Vietnam (Cultural Heritage and Contemporary Change. Series IIID, South East Asia, Vol. 5) (Cultural Heritage and Contemporary Change. Series III, Asia), Council for Research in Values & Philosophy, Washington DC, U.S.A.
