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ju's orders the beacons flared their nightly message of peace. And

night by night the peace-beacons flared, while day and night Chong



Mong-ju's messengers killed horses on all the roads of Cho-Sen. It

was my luck to see his messenger arrive at Keijo. At twilight, as I



rode out through the great gate of the capital, I saw the jaded

horse fall and the exhausted rider stagger in on foot; and I little



dreamed that that man carried my destiny with him into Keijo.

His message sprang the palace revolution. I was not due to return



until midnight, and by midnight all was over. At nine in the

evening the conspirators secured possession of the Emperor in his



own apartments. They compelled him to order the immediate

attendance of the heads of all departments, and as they presented



themselves, one by one, before his eyes, they were cut down.

Meantime the Tiger Hunters were up and out of hand. Yunsan and



Hendrik Hamel were badly beaten with the flats of swords and made

prisoners. The seven other cunies escaped from the palace along



with the Lady Om. They were enabled to do this by Kim, who held the

way, sword in hand, against his own Tiger Hunters. They cut him



down and trod over him. Unfortunately he did not die of his wounds.

Like a flaw of wind on a summer night the revolution, a palace



revolution of course, blew and was past. Chong Mong-ju was in the

saddle. The Emperor ratified whatever Chong Mong-ju willed. Beyond



gasping at the sacrilege of the king's tombs and applauding Chong

Mong-ju, Cho-Sen was unperturbed. Heads of officials fell



everywhere, being replaced by Chong Mong-ju's appointees; but there

were no risings against the dynasty.



And now to what befell us. Johannes Maartens and his three cunies,

after being exhibited to be spat upon by the rabble of half the



villages and walled cities of Cho-Sen, were buried to their necks in

the ground of the open space before the palace gate. Water was



given them that they might live longer to yearn for the food,

steaming hot and savoury and changed hourly, that was place



temptingly before them. They say old Johannes Maartens lived

longest, not giving up the ghost for a full fifteen days.



Kim was slowly crushed to death, bone by bone and joint by joint, by

the torturers, and was a long time in dying. Hamel, whom Chong



Mong-ju divined as my brains, was executed by the paddle--in short,

was promptly and expeditiously beaten to death to the delighted



shouts of the Keijo populace. Yunsan was given a brave death. He

was playing a game of chess with the jailer, when the Emperor's, or,



rather, Chong Mong-ju's, messenger arrived with the poison-cup.

"Wait a moment," said Yunsan. "You should be better-mannered than



to disturb a man in the midst of a game of chess. I shall drink

directly the game is over." And while the messenger waited Yunsan



finished the game, winning it, then drained the cup.

It takes an Asiatic to temper his spleen to steady, persistent,



life-long revenge. This Chong Mong-ju did with the Lady Om and me.

He did not destroy us. We were not even imprisoned. The Lady Om



was degraded of all rank and divested of all possessions. An

imperial decree was promulgated and posted in the last least village



of Cho-Sen to the effect that I was of the house of Koryu and that

no man might kill me. It was further declared that the eight sea-



cunies who survived must not be killed. Neither were they to be

favoured. They were to be outcasts, beggars on the highways. And



that is what the Lady Om and I became, beggars on the highways.

Forty long years of persecution followed, for Chong Mong-ju's hatred



of the Lady Om and me was deathless. Worse luck, he was favoured

with long life as well as were we cursed with it. I have said the



Lady Om was a wonder of a woman. Beyond endlessly repeating that

statement, words fail me, with which to give her just appreciation.



Somewhere I have heard that a great lady once said to her lover: "A

tent and a crust of bread with you." In effect that is what the



Lady Om said to me. More than to say it, she lived the last letter

of it, when more often than not crusts were not plentiful and the



sky itself was our tent.

Every effort I made to escape beggary was in the end frustrated by



Chong Mong-ju. In Song-do I became a fuel-carrier, and the Lady Om

and I shared a hut that was vastly more comfortable than the open



road in bitter winter weather. But Chong Mong-ju found me out, and

I was beaten and planked and put out upon the road. That was a



terrible winter, the winter poor "What-Now" Vandervoot froze to




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