Duong Huong - The Zenith

Holding the smooth arms of Little One, he asked, “What did he say to you, that dog from the highlands?”

“He said he had had eyes for me since the resistance, when he met me crossing the stream; that if I were smart, I would have agreed to be his wife since that day; that he had sworn that, sooner or later, he would have me.”

“Then what?”

“I told him I am the wife of the president; that we have a son and daughter, that he cannot rape me. He showed his teeth, laughing that the old man of mine was far away; that he wouldn’t hear my screams. Here he is the king, he said; he can have whomever he wants. If he wants to kill someone, the person will be killed. Now he wanted me to lie under his belly. Because that was the Politburo’s order. The Politburo had decided that I will be his wife. ‘Think about it,’ he said, ‘I am much younger than that old man of yours. If his stick is made of wood, mine is made of steel. If he takes you to the third heaven, I will take you to the ninth one. If he gives you two kids, I will give you twelve, one after the other. Be smart, shut your mouth, and spread your legs.’”

At each part of her recounting, her tears flowed.

An felt red-hot steel pellets rolling around in his heart. An episode from history returned, resonating in his ears: “The government was cowardly, therefore Dang Phi slept with the Ngu military lord, leaning on this officer to protect her troubled and promiscuous son, Dang Mau Lan.”

He thought: “My sister-in-law did not decide to sleep with a Ngu military general, but she is raped, humiliated, and tortured. Then this old king is ten times more cowardly than were the Trinh Lords of years past. The peril cannot be overcome. If I don’t run fast and fly far, my whole family will be turned into headless ghosts, wandering forever in darkness. My sister-in-law’s painful injustice will be permanently consigned to silence and then forgotten. Each woman’s life will be abandoned like a corpse bobbing on waves. My sister-in-law did not sin. From childhood to adulthood, she never said one word that hurt anyone. Her soul is childlike and pure. Her goodness measures three times more full than that of all the people who surround her. I have to survive to clear her of dishonor. I have to live to be witness to this horrible, brutal act.”

The teacher in That Khe district had taught him that the profession of writing history is the profession of heroes, daring to exchange their own lives for truth. Because all kings fear truth, they want historians to bend their pens to write as commanded. So many heads of historians have fallen under the swords of imperial executioners, but history is continuously written with their dry, blackened blood.

“Thus I must become a historian. Not one who writes about the nation’s history, but one who will record the lives of my loved ones.”

He held both women tight, looking at them for the last time so as to permanently register the images in his heart as well as his mind. Then he asked his wife, “How many rings do you have left?”

“Altogether five.”

“Keep the smallest one I made for you when we married. Give me the rest. As for cash, maybe we do not have much, but give me some to spend along the roads.”

“No, we have quite a bit of cash stored since last year. Let me give all to you.”

“How much?”

“About fifty thousand.”

“I only need half of it. Keep the other half for food.”

His wife went into the bedroom. He looked at her svelte back and thought: “You will not have the chance to go to the market, or cook Lang Son sour soup, my beloved wife. Our life together has been cut short like a stalk of rice at the harvest. Oh heaven, the day Little One was presented to the king was the very day disaster came to roost in our family. And changing our surname from Nong to Chi was about as stupid as you can get.”

Dong returned with a stack of paper bills in one hand. In the other she held a small case the size of a chicken’s gizzard. Putting the pile of money on the table, she opened the case and pulled out a string of rings, of the large size without stones or carvings, the kind long-distance merchants carry as cash.

“You must put the gold in your underwear. I sewed a pocket inside the waistband.”

“I understand.”

“Put the bills into many different pockets in your clothes. If you lose some from one, you will still have more in the others.”

“I understand.”

“And you must take along the vial of ointment for colds and the medication for stomachaches. There is also a flashlight, a lighter, a knife for the woods, and snakebite antidote. Is it complete?”

“All are in the duffel bag.”

“Let me see your duffel bag.”

“Nothing is missing,” An answered while thinking to himself, “The one most important thing missing is you, and our Little One; because I cannot take you along on this journey of misery. But we will see each other in the other world, another land, the meeting place of all living things. We will meet again. But all my beloved ones, before we meet again, I must do this to make things right.”

For the last time, he bent down to embrace the two women with a hard squeeze, to smell the intimate scent of their shiny and straight hair, rubbing his face against their smooth faces. Then he stood up.

“Don’t go to the door. Don’t follow me. Kiss the kids for me.”

“You…!” Both cried out.

He lowered his voice: “Don’t cry. Look as if nothing has happened. We have no other way.”

He went down the stairs, not turning back even once.

In the hallway, An called Nong Tai over and said, “Do you have money in your pocket? Can you lend me ten thousand? I planned to buy some stuff and ask someone to bring it back home, but I did not take enough money.”

Nong Tai looked at him. “When will you pay me back?”

“Next week. Oh, I forgot…Payday is in two weeks, at which time I will repay you right away, not a day later.”

“In my pocket I have only enough to buy a couple of sesame balls. I left my money in the barracks.”

“It is almost time for changing the guard. Will you see if the comrades will let you leave one hour early?”

“OK, let me ask.”

The corridor was long enough that their conversation would not have been heard by the two other guards. He knew that the ruse would succeed because usually highland people do not know how to lie. Three minutes later Nong Tai returned.

“Let’s go; the two comrades agreed I can leave early. We will go to where I left my bike so we can cycle back to the camp.”

“Agreed.”

They left together. When Nong Tai had his bike, the two quietly rode through three streets; they were convinced that nobody had followed them. “Let’s stop at the sidewalk,” An said.

Nong Tai understood him immediately and got down from his bike. The two went up on the sidewalk and stood under the shade of a tree.

An asked, “Do the other two guys know that sooner or later they will die?”

“Nobody says anything but all three of us quietly understand it will be so. We have the afternoon shift. The thing always happens in the afternoon, therefore only the three of us witness it. The other group has the shift from midnight until noon the next day; they know nothing.”

“So why didn’t you three plan an escape?”

“Where to escape now? Every morning they call roll before going to exercise; in the afternoon they do it before bedtime. However, if they want to escape they will not talk to me because I am a Tay. And I, I cannot plan with them at all. Because they are Vietnamese. Minister Quoc Tuy is Vietnamese like them and Miss Xuan is a Tay like me.”

“Do you think they suspect that I have asked you to escape?”