Entry the Fifth: The Legend of Thánh Gióng

The Legend of Thánh Gióng

A Vietnamese folk tale.

A long time ago, in a small and faraway village called Phù Đổng in the land that is known today as Việt Nam, there lived a poor but kind and hardworking couple. Their lives, like the lives of many in their village, were often miserable and difficult, but the country was relatively peaceful, they were recently married and happy together. However, their wish was to have a child, and although they tried and tried for many years and prayed to the Gods for fertility they could not conceive.

One day, the woman developed a severe sickness, so her husband made the journey to Trau Mountain to collect some medicinal herbs and leaves to relieve her pain. But disaster struck in the mountains, and her husband was killed in a fall. The tragic news reached the woman on her sick bed and she cried for it seemed they had spent only a fleeting time together.

In time the sickness passed, and although she was sad and her wish to have a family was over, she knew she had to stay strong for herself and keep working to earn a living. Every day, she went to the fields and worked from sunrise to sunset. The other people of the village felt sorry for her, but there was little they could do to help, for they were poor as well.

In those days, the land was ruled by the 6^th King or Vương of the Hùng Dynasty. The King was a benevolent ruler, but a threat was approaching the kingdom in the form of the formidable Ân warriors, who were moving south and conquering all the lands in their path. The people prayed with all their hearts and minds for protection, with the strong belief that the Gods would hear them soon.

Eventually, the Gods saw the hardworking people and the danger approaching them and finally listened to their prayers. They were angry at the cruelty and violence of the Ân and decided to do something to help the people of Việt Nam. They discussed and debated the situation, and finally turned to the God of War. They asked him if his son was willing to go to Earth and fight alongside the troops of that country when the time came.

Without hesitation, the God’s son agreed, although his father was quite worried for his son’s safety, for this would be his first mission to Earth, and the God did not know whether he would succeed. He helped his son to prepare, and soon the son has confidence and courage and felt more ready than ever. He said a final farewell to his parents and siblings and left for Earth.

Sometime later, the poor woman of Phù Đổng village was working hard as usual on a distant corner of the fields. On her way back home, she saw a remarkable footprint in the wet soil. She gave a start, for this footprint was the strangest she had ever seen. She placed her own foot in the centre to compare.

Although it looked like the footprint of a man, it was larger and deeper than any she had seen before, and filled with clear water, cleaner than any which clogged the furrows in the muddy ground. Could it be the footprint of a giant? Or a God?

The day was hot, and the woman was tired and thirsty, so she cupped her hands and drank deeply from the clear water. Almost immediately, she began to feel faint and collapsed into unconsciousness.

When she awoke, she was lying on her bed in her home, surrounded by friends and neighbours, who were regarding her with nervous glances. She tried to sit up, but felt a strange sensation in her stomach. Looking down she saw a slight bulge. At first the people worried that her sickness had returned, but in the months that followed, the woman’s body continued to swell and it became clear that she was pregnant.

Some of the villagers spoke ill of the woman, and told tales about her, for it was too long since the death of her husband for the child to be his. But the woman knew that the child was a gift, and the Gods had finally answered her prayers. When he was born a few months later, the sky grew dark and lightning crossed the heavens. This was a sign from the Gods to mark the child as one of their own.

The woman named her son Thánh Gióng. Some of the village elders believed that the child was special, and would change the country in the future, but the woman was just happy to have a son she could raise and devote her life to. Finally, she would no longer be lonely.

However, the elders soon lost interest in Gióng, for by the time of his third birthday, although he was chubby and healthy, he could not walk, could not talk or smile, and simply lay wherever he was placed. This made her worried and sad once again, but she loved him all the same.

News soon reached the village that the Ân invaders were drawing ever closer to Phù Đổng village and the heartlands of Việt Nam. They blazed a path through the country, burning towns and cities, murdering innocents and subjecting the people to acts of immeasurable cruelty.

Despite their persistence and tenacity, the armies of Hùng Vương were repeatedly routed. In his desperation, the King dispatched messengers to all the towns and villages of the kingdom, searching for skilled warriors to join the army. Young men crowded around these envoys, eager to prove themselves and defend their homes, and although the army swelled, the Ân moved forward, and no man appeared to be the hero who could save the nation.

Late one night, the King’s messenger finally reached Phù Đổng. As the villagers gathered around him in the central meeting place, he made his speech, reading loudly from the King’s scroll. Gióng’s mother was lulling him to sleep when she heard the messenger’s voice. She looked down at her son and smiled sadly, wondering if her son would ever grow into the kind of man who could join the army and fight for freedom.

At the sound of the messenger’s voice, Gióng suddenly sat up to listen. His mother was shocked. Then something even more surprising happened. Gióng spoke!

“Call the messenger in for me, mother. I need to speak with him.” Gióng said.

Then he was silent again. The woman was still astounded, but she rushed outside and called the messenger in with a mix of hope and anxiety. The man came inside and was surprised to see the small boy sitting up in his crib. The messenger smiled down at Gióng.

“Why do you want to see me, child? I think you might be a little young to join the King’s army.”

Gióng answered seriously: “Go to the King and tell him to forge for me three things: a huge horse of iron, an iron suit of plate armour with iron helmet and a long rod of iron. Then you will see how I fight the invaders for the country’s peace.”

The words from the little boy were so clear, so eloquent and powerful, that the messenger was instantly in awe and felt compelled to obey. He immediately left the village and returned to the capital.

Once in the King’s Palace, the envoy reported directly to the King, telling him everything about Gióng and the strange requests he had made. The King listened well and believed that the boy must be a God-sent hero. He decreed that the order was to be fulfilled, and called all the blacksmiths in the country to the capital and sent men to collect all the available iron that could be found.

The blacksmiths worked day and night in the royal forge melting down the iron and crafting the immense horse, armour and rod that Gióng had asked for. When they had finished, the weapons were too heavy for anyone to move, so the King ordered a thousand of his troops to carry them to Gióng.

Meanwhile in Phù Đổng, Gióng had begun to eat. And as he ate, he started to grow. First, he called for his mother to cook him rice, and he kept eating until there was no food left in the house. His mother then asked for help from the neighbours.

Soon, the whole village was cooking for Gióng. They brought him rice, they brought him bread, and they brought him meat and fish. The more they brought, the more he ate and the more he grew. He grew and grew until his clothes burst, and the villagers rushed to make him some more.

Soon, word arrived that the invaders were approaching the foot of Trau Mountain, only three days’ ride away. The people were scared and prayed that the King’s men would arrive soon. On the third day, the royal guard arrived in the village carrying the iron horse, armour and rod and Gióng finally stopped eating. He stood up, stretched his arms, and stepped out of his house. The villagers gasped. In a few short days, Gióng had become a powerful, muscular giant of a man. He reached the height of a trượng (a traditionally Vietnamese measurement roughly equal to 3 ⅓ m).

Gióng picked up the heavy iron armour easily and put it on. When he touched the iron horse, the great beast sprang to life, neighing loudly and breathing fire from its nostrils. Gióng stretched again, and turned to the royal troops, who were watching in astonishment and admiration. Gióng’s voice rumbled like thunder as he spoke.

“Ride with me into battle, for I am your God-appointed general!”

Gióng grabbed his iron rod and mounted his horse.

With the soldiers and young men following behind him, Gióng rode to the mountains to await the enemy. When he saw the Ân, he led his men directly into their ranks. The rod in Gióng’s hand flashed like lightning, killing a great number of the enemy. Their compatriots trembled at the sight and many more were burned by the fire from the nostrils of the iron horse. The man on the iron horse fought bravely and the enemy died like flies. But the battle was long and fierce, for though Gióng and his men were valiant, the Ân were still dense and powerful.

Suddenly, in the heat of battle, the iron rod broke! But Gióng was not to be defeated. Thinking quickly, Gióng uprooted trees from the bamboo groves growing on either side of the road. He continued to strike at the enemy as he had with his rod.

Before long, the will of the invaders shattered. Utterly broken, they began to flee, trampling over each other in their desperation to get away even before their terrified general gave the order to retreat.

As they fled, Gióng continued to rip clumps of bamboo from the ground and toss them at the enemy troops. When all the Ân were either dead or running, Gióng was declared victorious. He had finally restored peace and order to the country.

After the battle, Gióng rode to the top of Soc Son Mountain, where he took off his armour and helmet. He climbed back onto his horse and flew away, disappearing into the skies as man and horse ascended to heaven together.

To show his deep gratitude to the valiant man, the King conferred upon him the title of Phù Đổng Thiên Vương (The Heavenly King of Phù Đổng) and commissioned a temple dedicated to his memory not far from the spot where he ascended. To this very day, there is a festival each year to commemorate and honour the memory of Thánh Gióng.