2005-11-21

The Legendary Anh Brothers

Posted in original work, prose at 12:59 pm by percival

[First volley across the bow. Have at it — written in about an hour, during this morning’s pre-dawn. — P.]
A thousand years ago, in the ancient lands of modern day Vietnam, terrible floods ravaged the land for five whole years. On the fifth year, as if the sun itself could suffer no more, the summer burned exceptionally hot, boiling away the waters, which finally surrendered and withdrew after stealing countless lives.

The following spring put forth its best effort to make up for the previous years of suffering. The fruits on trees grew twice as plenty, twice as large, and twice as sweet. In a small village in the foothills of the Hoang Lien Son mountains, on the first full moon of Spring, after a long and painful birth, five sons were born to chief Anh, a large man who raised chickens, and his wife, who was twice as small, yet twice as loud as her husband.

The couple had been married for several years, and had been trying to bear a child, but nothing would come. Nothing good would come during the floods, the people had believed. On the hottest of summer nights, with the moon hanging overripe in the sky, their efforts finally bore fruit. The chief had lost his parents and his eldest brother in the floods, and saw it as a sign that they were protecting his family from the afterlife.

The boys looked so similar, it was hard for their parents, let alone family and friends, to tell them apart. As tradition had it, the eldest was named Second Brother, and the rest followed: Third Brother, Fourth Brother, and so forth. The last to leave the womb was named Sixth Brother.

Five sons were the greatest blessing after the five fruitless years. They grew tall and strong. The Anh fields grew, their rice stores grew, the chickens grew louder and louder. Soon the boys were no longer boys, but men who ran in the streets, until the streets met the edges of the forests.

It is time for them to leave the village, said their mother. They are a blessing from the gods, and we have kept them for ourselves for all these years. They will become great men. And so handing each a satchel of rice and eggs, she sent them away to become the great men we know them to be.

Of course we hear the most of Second Brother. On his journey across the country, he learned of injustice. He parted with his brothers to save his country. The successes of his military victories are detailed in the country’s history books. In uniting the multitude of warring tribes, he founded the great Anh dynasty.

Third Brother was not a king like his brother, but richer than many kings of the world at the time. On his journey across the country, he learned of hunger. He spent the rest of his life never hungry again. He set up trade routes throughout all of Asia. Every piece of gold and jade traded in the country was touched by his hand, if only indirectly through one of his agencies. It was in part his gold which held together the Anh dynasty as long as it lasted.

Fourth Brother had no love for money like his brother. On his journey across the country, he learned of ignorance. Finding it unbearable, he spent the rest of his life seeking to abolish his own ignorance, and became a great philosopher. He traveled across all of Asia with Third Brother, learned to speak forty languages, and was one of the first to bring Buddha to the land. When he died, it is said his body burst into a brilliant light, and he directly ascended to the heavens.

The brother least spoken of is Fifth Brother, though we know the most about him. Fifth Brother served beside Second Brother in the great wars. From the profits of the wars, Fifth Brother loaned Third Brother the money which would found his merchant empire. And when he was only a child, it was Fifth Brother who would read the old stories aloud and seed in Fourth Brother wonder of the world. Fifth Brother came home after the wars and married a young widow who lived across from his parents’ fields. He had twelve children, and those twelve children had forty children, and those forty children had two hundred children, and the descendants of those two hundred children still live today, carrying the Anh name a thousand years after his death.

We know the least of the youngest Sixth Brother. We know he did not fight in the wars. We know he was not rich. We know he did not join the church. We do not know if he had any children. When Second Brother was buried, he attended the grand funeral. Sixth Brother was said to have been traveling through Portugal when Third Brother vanished off the coast. Sixth Brother protested when Fourth Brother was declared posthumously as a Buddha. And when Fifth Brother died, his wife, now twice a widow, cried and cried in Sixth Brother’s arms when he came home, because they looked so similar.

One of Sixth Brother’s grand-nephews asked him when his sister-in-law soon died after her husband, with so many great brothers, what was your greatness? What grand lesson did you learn? He shrugged and said, I’m still looking for my greatness, and walked down the road through the village until it led into the forests, and never to this day returned.

Permalink Leave a Comment