Sun Quan entered the black cell, still illuminated with glowing red lights in the corners of the ceiling. Cuong’s head remained lowered as the commanding figure approached. He had been staring at his wrinkled hands for hours. Age was a curse far greater than death to the young man.
“Come with me,” commanded Sun Quan.
Cuong obeyed. His back twinged as he stood to his feet, short of breath. He followed.
Nobody handcuffed him. He walked down a corridor and through the sliding doors of the slick stone building, which had been built on the corner of Ba Dinh Square. He thought it strange he had never seen the building before. An open-air armored vehicle waited for them. Cuong climbed into a back seat and Sun Quan sat behind him on the deck, like a vulture or a gargoyle studying the prey below before the attack. The vehicle whipped through the streets. Myriad people gawked at the domineering figure in the backseat, swords strapped to his back, glass shield across his eyes. On one turn in the street, someone threw a bottle at the beast and it smashed into glass shards against his back without any acknowledgment from Sun Quan.
The Chinese soldier driving the vehicle came to a stop in front of the Nha Tho Lon, St. Joseph’s Cathedral, a block away from Hoan Kiem Lake. The soldier told Cuong to enter the church. Cuong looked behind him at Sun Quan, but the warrior ignored him. Cuong stepped out of the vehicle with a fair amount of difficulty and walked up the steps and into the cathedral. The soldier walked to the rear holding a rifle and pointed to the narrow, winding stairs leading to the front spire of the cathedral. Young Cuong could have run up the stairs without much difficulty, but the present Cuong, the one with aged lungs and creaky knees, paced himself step-by-step, frequently looking behind him to see the soldier urging him from the barrel of a rifle.
“Why am I going up here?” Cuong finally asked, to no reply.
Out of breath, he pushed open a metal door and stepped out onto the top of the cathedral’s north tower, across from the twin south tower and several meters above the tip of the cross which centered the cathedral between the two towers. Sun Quan appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He stood on the ledge of the tower, and he motioned to Cuong.
“Stand on the ledge.”
Cuong did. He wasn’t afraid to die, but he still couldn’t help but feel the fear in his chest as he stood one hundred and three feet above the pavement below. Sun Quan pointed in the distance, down Church Street to the water of the lake shimmering in the evening sun.
“Hoan Kiem Lake. What will your friends do at the lake?”
“They are not my friends.”
“Isn’t Miss Lien your aunt?” Cuong looked over at Sun Quan with a surprised glare. “You can tell me or not tell me. It doesn’t matter,” added the giant.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“There was a car bomb on the other side of the lake today.”
“I didn’t do it.”
Sun Quan smirked. “They will attempt it. Tonight on the lake. I won’t prevent it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cuong’s voice almost sounded like a plea. Asking the warrior to end it. Mercifully.
“No, you evidently don’t. You are so bound by your own self-rightness that you can’t grasp the reach of the past and how it lingers over every part of this city, especially over this lake. You’re a stubborn people. Foolish, but of one mind. That is to be commended.”
“What do you want from me?” asked Cuong.
“Nothing you can give me.”
“Then why am I here?” His breath was airy and weak.
“I wanted you to see the lake one more time.”
“Why?”
“Cause it will either swallow your friends like a vicious beast or …” His voiced trailed off and he continued looking off toward the lake.
“Or what? What?”
“The past shall be opened, and we shall both feel pain in all of its glory.”
“I don’t understand what you want.”
“Don’t look down.”
Unable to resist, the young man in the old body did look down, and exactly at that moment, wind rushed behind him and lifted him off the edge into the open air. He fell head-first off the tower, screaming and flailing and calling out for help. He didn’t care about age or rebellion or the lake or anything else. He pleaded for his life against the sure death waiting him on the pavement below. He closed his eyes and screamed once more. When he opened them, Sun Quan stood below him on the stone steps. His arm stretched out to stop Cuong’s fall. His body didn’t touch the outstretched arm. It hovered for a moment before falling the final few meters into a frail ball of emotions at Sun Quan’s feet.
“Take him away.”
Two Chinese soldiers seized Old Man Cuong by each arm, returned him to the vehicle, and sped off into the dying evening. He had fallen off a church tower but was still alive and couldn’t understand why.
The long, quiet hours passed in a slumping stupor. Tho leaned against the wall and snored much more loudly than Lien would have liked. She watched through the cracks and only noticed a scant few visitors to the temple, coming to light incense and say a prayer. She figured they had bribed the guards to allow them on the islet, and so was confident the prayers were for the resistance. Minh bit his lip and stared intensely at his mother. His leg pulsed up and down like an impatient toddler. She patted it and whispered, “Rebellions are usually boring. Be grateful for these moments.”
The dark hours commenced as night fell upon Hanoi. They had short respites from the boredom. Huong’s father-in-law escorted them to the bathroom one at a time and passed them loaves of crunchy French bread to satisfy their appetites.
“I always wondered if we should be thankful for the French bread,” whispered Tho. “A vestige of colonialism.” He took a bite. “On a day like this, I bless the colonial bastards.”
Lien cuffed the old man quiet.
The weary souls wondered if they would ever be permitted to leave their compartment, but as midnight approached, the panel slid open and Tuan stood in the doorway, back-lit by the candles on the altars to his rear.
“Come. All of you.”
They slipped out the back of the temple under the canopy of several large trees surrounding it on all sides. Tuan led them to the southern end of the islet and stopped under the cover of one of the branches.
“Mr. Lieu, what did he say about me?” asked Tho before Tuan could speak.
“He reveres you. He trusts your judgment. His only warning was we couldn’t make any guarantees.”
“What does that mean?” asked Minh.
“Your safety is out of our control. I can help you, but I can’t save you. No one can.”
Tho chuckled. “We don’t need saving. We need a boat.”
Tuan pointed towards the water with his forehead. “A small rowboat. Big enough for three.”
“That’s all we need,” said Lien.
“What is it you’re hoping to do?”
Tho turned away and patted the young man on the shoulder. “It would be better not to know the foolishness we will attempt.”
“But I saw what you did with the silver shavings on the marble tablets. I know there’s something more at work here. I want to know what it is.”
“If we’re successful, then everyone will know, including you. And if we’re not, we’ll sleep quietly in the water tonight.”
Lien turned harshly towards the old man. “Tho, don’t say that. I don’t want Minh to think—“
“Ma, I’m not a little boy. I know what we’re doing.”
“Minh, your mother loves you. That is all. She also knows you’re ready. We’ve been led here—all three of us—to ride the smooth waters of Returned Sword Lake at the stroke of midnight in hopes of finding a generous turtle.”
Tuan looked at Tho. “That’s what you’re doing? Looking for the turtle?”
“Why else would we be here?” laughed Tho. “Do you think Mr. Lieu would approve of such a mission?”
“This is crazy,” Tuan said, shaking his head.
“Of course it is. Why do you think we were chosen?” Tho reached out his hands and Lien grabbed one side and Minh the other. They walked toward the edge of the lake and stood a solemn trio at the tip of the row boat. “Minh will row. He has the strength. Lien will sit in the front and scout. She has the eyes.”
“And what will you do, Mr. Tho?” asked Minh.
“I have my marble tablets to keep me company.”
They all climbed in, each giving a helping hand to Mr. Tho. Tuan put his hands on the side of the boat and pushed it gently into the water.
“Where did you get the boat?” asked Tho.
“During the explosion. Someone brought it over. We were lucky.”
“It’s funny how truth and luck are closely related,” said Tho. “Minh, let’s go.”
“Where to?”
“Toward Turtle Temple.” The turtle temple had been built on a small island on the southern part of the lake to commemorate the legend of the turtle. It seemed to Tho as good a place as any to begin the search.
“Be careful, Tuan,” said Lien. “And thank you. Any news from Cuong?”
“No, ma’am.”
The boat pulled away from shore when they heard a voice from behind Tuan.
“Wait! Wait!”
Minh pulled the oars straight. Huong’s father-in-law descended the bank to the edge of the water carrying something with both hands.
“Wait. You may need this.” A sword. He held it out with open palms as if paying tribute to an ancient king. “Perhaps the turtle will be more accommodating to your request if you don’t come empty handed.”
The legend of the returned sword wasn’t lost on anyone. As the legend goes, a fisherman found a magical sword in his net. The sword was used to defeat the Chinese aggressors in the 15th century, only to be returned to the golden turtle when the battle ceased.
“Where did you get that sword?”
“It has been hidden in Ngoc Son Temple since its construction. Look what is engraved on it: thuan thien.”
Minh had rowed the boat back to the edge of the shore. “The Will of Heaven,” said Tho. “Thank you. We will take it as a tribute.”
He handed the sword to Lien, who laid it flat in the hull of the boat.
“Good luck,” wished the old man on the shore, along with the young rebel.
Minh turned the boat around, and it drifted into open water. The moon shone overhead and the eerie quietness of the lake’s surroundings caught all of their attention. Alone on the lake, in a small boat, searching for a mythical turtle. They tried not to think about the absurdness of it all.
Minh sat between the two adults and rowed in a methodical but slow manner. Lien scoured the water but it lay perfectly still with a sheen of lights reflecting off its surface.
“Tho, tell us when it’s time,” said Lien without looking back at him.
He had removed the tablets from the pouch and placed them in his hands. He began with the familiar circular motion, and the other two could hear the faint friction from the marble.
“A passion to be free. Bound together, each link. Generations of ancestors. A bronze drum. A dragon. A sword. United. The past revealed in the present.”
Tho spoke it first then the other two joined in to create a low monotone chorus. They were exposed on the lake. Anyone from shore could easily have spotted them, so they didn’t think much of the noise they created. If they were caught, then so be it.
It took ten minutes for them to cross the open water and approach Turtle Tower. They continued the chant without ceasing as Tho manipulated the tablets in his hand.
“Stop,” yelled Tho.
Minh held the ends of the oars upright and the boat slowly glided to a peaceful stop on the tranquil water. The chant ended, as did the rubbing of the tablets.
“Here. Lien, try the sword. Dip the tip of the sword into the water. The will of heaven.”
Lien lifted the sword with both hands and pierced the surface of the water with its tip. She held it for a moment as Tho commenced the saying and the other two joined.
“A passion to be free. Bound together, each link. Generations of ancestors. A bronze drum. A dragon. A sword. United. The past revealed in the present.”
After they spoke the word ‘present,’ the boat jolted upwards. All three screamed and expected to plunge into the deep. But the boat didn’t capsize, and the force underneath kept lifting them out of the water. Then the head of a giant turtle emerged from the deep and snatched the sword with its mouth. The water dripped down from the sides of the boat and Minh peeked over the edge.
“Ma, Tho! The boat’s on the shell of a giant turtle!”