NTH 19

“No, thank you. I’m about to visit the sippachi for a bit. I’ll see you again tomorrow at the falcon hunt.”

The ‘sippachi’ were low-ranking workers who managed the falcons. They worked in the town, overseeing falcon catchers, a grueling and arduous job with hardly any volunteers.

Ilwoon went straight to the response room to meet the sippachi and receive reports on the number and condition of the falcons. Just then, he saw a slender young boy entering the room with a falcon perched on his arm.

“I’m back,” the boy said.

The sippachi, who had been explaining things to Ilwoon, responded to him. “Hey, Manbong. You’re back. How’s the falcon? Ready for tomorrow?”

“Yes. If the weather’s clear, it should be fine. Snow might make it a bit tough, though.”

Manbong, his cheeks red from the cold, had bright, clear eyes.

“This is Lord Chaebangsa, who came from Hanyang on the king’s orders. Greet him properly,” the sippachi instructed.

“Greetings, my lord,” Manbong said, bowing deeply while looking at Ilwoon with nervous eyes.

The large falcon, gripping Manbong’s forearm with its menacing talons, blinked and stared at Ilwoon.

“Is this the falcon that will be used for tomorrow’s hunt with the Qing envoy?” Ilwoon asked.

“Yes, my lord,” the sippachi replied.

“Hmm. How old is he?” Ilwoon asked, addressing Manbong.

“Seventeen,” Manbong answered.

Ilwoon turned to the sippachi with a puzzled expression. “Why would you entrust such an important falcon, meant for entertaining the envoy, to someone who looks so inexperienced?”

The sippachi waved his hands in denial. “Oh, my lord, Manbong isn’t your average boy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Since he was very young, he’s been known for having falcons take to him exceptionally well. Not just falcons—other animals strangely obey him too.”

“Is that true? Does this boy communicate with animals or something?”

“We know it sounds unbelievable, but when you see it, you can’t help but wonder if it’s true.”

“That’s remarkable,” Ilwoon muttered to himself.

Manbong lowered his head, smiling shyly. Just then, a cold, stern voice came from behind.

“Manbong. If you’re back, put the falcon away first.”

“Oh, yes!” Manbong’s face lit up as he turned toward the voice.

A tall man with dark skin and small black pupils in wide, white sanpaku eyes approached and gave Ilwoon a slight bow. “I am Sippachi Park Dohong, my lord.”

Ilwoon met his sharp gaze and replied, “Chaebangbusa Shin Ilwoon.”

Park Dohong barely acknowledged the introduction before turning to Manbong brusquely. “Preparations for tomorrow’s hunt?”

“I worked hard, so don’t worry.”

“Hand that thing over to me now?”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

Park Dohong nodded and extended his arm, wrapped in a sleeve guard. There were several scratch marks near his neck, as if clawed by something sharp.

Manbong, looking concerned, tried to transfer the falcon to Park Dohong’s arm. But the falcon, which had been so calm until then, flapped its wings and resisted.

“Nalssae, be good. Go to Mr. Eungsa, okay?” Manbong coaxed.

Ilwoon had never heard of giving a wild falcon a name, but Manbong seemed to call this one Nalssae. Before its talons could touch Park Dohong’s arm, the falcon returned to Manbong. Watching Park Dohong’s sour expression, Ilwoon remarked casually, “You’re supposed to be a falconer, yet you can’t even get a falcon to perch on your arm?”

Park Dohong, not bothering to hide his irritation, replied curtly, “It’s just this falcon.”

“Just this one? Is there a reason?”

“I don’t know.”

The older sippachi, who had been with Ilwoon from the start, quickly jumped into the conversation. “This one, which Manbong calls Nalssae, is the largest and best hunter among our falcons. But it’s got a bad temper and only listens to Manbong, not anyone else.”

“But when a hunt succeeds, it’s the sippachi who get the credit, not the falcon catchers, right? So this boy does all the work, and you take all the glory?”

“Well, that’s…” The older man trailed off, lowering his head.

Park Dohong, however, shamelessly retorted, “Isn’t that the same with you nobles? Farmers toil to death every day, but you take all the harvest. How’s that any different from us?”

“What did you say?” Ilwoon shot back.

“Dohong, how dare you speak so rudely to the lord! My lord, please forgive him. He’s just rough by nature…” the older sippachi pleaded.

Ignoring Park Dohong, Ilwoon turned to Manbong, who was visibly anxious. “Manbong, was it? If you do well assisting the Qing envoy’s falcon hunt tomorrow, I’ll give you a small reward.”

“I-I’m fine, my lord,” Manbong stammered, bowing repeatedly, clearly wary of Park Dohong.

Ilwoon, observing him quietly, said to the older sippachi, “I’d like to ask Manbong some things about falcon hunting. May I take him for a bit?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Then you two go attend to your duties.”

Pretending not to notice Park Dohong’s scowl, Ilwoon looked at Manbong. “Put the falcon away and come talk with me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Ilwoon sat Manbong on a wide, sunlit rock after he returned from stowing the falcon, then sat beside him. Manbong, clasping his hands nervously, looked tense as Ilwoon asked, “Where do you live?”

“About five ri from here, in a village.”

“Are your parents well?”

“I lost both when I was young.”

“Oh, so you live alone?”

“I stay with my uncle’s family, helping with their farm. Winter’s the off-season, so I come here every year to help with the falcon hunts.”

“How do you tame wild falcons for hunting?”

“We catch them when they’re fledglings, before they can fly, and train them.”

“How?”

“We lure them with food to perch on our fingers and train them to come when called, using bait.”

Ilwoon nodded. “How big does a falcon need to be for hunting?”

“After about six months from leaving the nest, they can hunt on their own. We call those falcons boramae.”

“Can’t you catch a fully grown falcon and train it?”

“If you let a full-grown falcon hunt, it’ll eat the prey itself and fly off. So we have to catch and train them from a young age.”

Though dispatched to oversee the delivery of falcons, Ilwoon had never actually attended a falcon hunt. He was curious about the specifics. “How does a falcon hunt usually go?”

“Hunters sweep the forest to scare pheasants into flight. Then falconers like me release the falcons to catch them.”

“And after that?”

“We follow the sound of the bell tied to the falcon’s tail feathers. It might cross valleys or climb ridges—that’s the hardest part. If you don’t move fast, things go wrong.”

“Go wrong how?”

“The falcon takes the pheasant to a secluded spot and pecks its head or plucks out its eyes. If you get there quickly, you can take the pheasant alive. If you’re late, it’s dead with its eyes gone and head smashed.”

“Oh?”

“If you’re even later, the falcon might eat the whole pheasant and fly away. Even trained, they’re ferocious creatures with little patience.”

“I see.”

“If we bring back a dead pheasant and the higher-ups are disappointed, we all get scolded.”

“That sounds tough.”

“So falconers like me feed them chicken separately to keep them satisfied and take the pheasant alive.”

“Why not feed them chicken before the hunt? If they’re full, they won’t eat the pheasant, right?”