The Citadel of Thăng Long was sinking deeply into the sunlight. The joyful rays of dawn slipped through the window, gliding gently across the princess's room to the intricately carved ironwood bed, showing two phoenixes facing the moon. The dawn light softly caressed the flushed cheeks of Princess Chiêu Hoàng.
She was still deep in slumber, exhausted but happy from a night of passionate love. Her arms wrapped around a swan-feather pillow, as if embracing a tender dream. She stirred, hiding away from the light, burrowing deeper into the soft pillow. Her rosy lips parted slightly as if smiling in her dreams.
Suddenly.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The urgent beat of the court drum echoed through the air, resounding like a modern-day parent calling their child to get up for school. Chiêu Hoàng wrinkled her nose. She pulled the soft pillow over her head.
"What's with all this drumming? It's giving me a headache…" she grumbled. But then, as if pricked in the heart, she bolted upright. Her hair was a tangled mess, like a raven's nest, but her eyes sparkled brightly. This morning, she didn't have to attend the daily royal meeting. She wasn't required to. She was a woman—no one expected or required a woman to sit in the routine royal meeting, only in a very special circumstance, the woman was summoned by the Emperor. She didn't need to make up, to wear a crown or formalities. But she had to get up. Today was the day she would escape with the first and only man she had ever loved. A getaway. An adventure. A journey far away.
Like any eighteen- or twenty-year-old girl from a well-off family today, she would begin her great adventure by… a shopping trip.
As heavy northern gate of the Thăng Long Citadel was opened by the guards, she stepped out among a crowd of palace maids and eunuchs, skipping lightly like a sparrow freed from its cage. She was disguised as a kitchen maid heading to the early market, wearing a simple four-panel tunic. A crow-beak headscarf covered half of her face and whole her tangled-as-raven's nest hair. Just in a few steps, her sleeves already fluttered in the breeze from the Nhị Hà River - the historical name of the Red River during Lý dynasty.
Outside, the market was bustling like a country festival. The smells of dried fish, pastries, fruits, people, and agarwood incense mingled into a lively and vibrant atmosphere. The cool river breeze made her hair dance like wild grass and paddy field.
She smiled. She inhaled deeply. This was the scent of freedom. She passed a pastry stall, her eyes lighting up like a child's. "Wrap me a big stick of fresh and newly-boiled pork ham and a dozen pairs of sticky rice cakes. I'll eat them on the way."
Then she darted to the next stall. "Pack me some shredded buffalo meat, sticky rice with sesame salt. Pack me some lotus tea, ginger slices… oh, and some salt, too. Ginger keeps the stomach warm on a long journey."
The market boys and girls, women and man smiled at her. This girl must be from a noble family, they thought. How she looked so pretty. Whose her face was so radiant. Whose her smile so lively. She was as spirited as a swallow heralding spring.
One woman even slipped a few peanut candies into her hand. "Take these for the road, my dear. Something to munch on." Grateful, Chiêu Hoàng thanked them profusely, her hands now full of a bulging sack of food.
At the fabric stall, she picked out two sets of plain brown tunics, a crow-beak headscarf, a palm-leaf raincoat, and a pair of straw sandals—simple clothes that would make anyone mistake her for a peasant girl. The plainer, the better to blend into the crowd.
The part she was most excited about was buying horses.At the riverside, she pointed straight at two steeds: a snow-white horse and a jet-black one, both tall, with bright eyes and strong hooves—clearly prized horses from famous Đồng Văn region.
The horse trader hesitated, asking for papers. Back then, a good horse was as expensive and hard to buy as purchasing a Lexus or Porsche nowaday. The feudal state controlled horses even more strictly than vehicles. Only royalty or the ultra-wealthy could afford them. Without a horse, the only way to travel is walking.
Without a word, she flashed a jade tablet engraved with two phoenixes facing the moon—her royal emblem—and pressed it close to his nose. No common person, even officials dared question or even look up at the symbol of the princess.
The trader's eyes gleamed at the sight of a lucrative deal. He didn't utter another word when she tossed him two gemstones as big as the size of pigeon eggs. She slung her sack over her shoulder and leaped onto the white horse's back. She knew how to ride a horse very long time ago. She could ride a horse before she can walk.
The gemstones had been gifts from some military officer or ambitious commander, buried in a pile of royal tributes from last year's victory celebration. She couldn't possibly remember the name of some old man or unattractive suitor attached to one of the many gift boxes. Probably someone as old as Trần Thủ Độ, she thought, chuckling to herself.
The trader stood dumbfounded, watching her gallop off, still unable to believe what had just happened.
Back to the northern gate, she tore off the headscarf, letting her tangled-as-raven's nest hair fly free against the wind. The guards knew her face well. She jumped down from in the white horse and led both of them through the gate. She would ride the white one. He would ride the black. A perfect pair. She smiled again, tying the horses to a tree just steps from the gate.
The eyes of Gatekeeper official, who was busy scribbling in his logbook, nearly jumped out of his head when he saw the jade tablet with the phoenixes placed under his nose. And then, a small gold bar was discreetly slipped alongside it, landing on the buffalo-hide-bound, dó-paper ledger.
"Prohibit to call my name. Not allow to ask any question. Watch my horses. I'll be back by afternoon. Feed them grain. Give them water. This is a top secret royal mission—the less you know, the longer you live." Her voice was cold and commanding.
The face of Gatekeeper official paled, but his eyes lit up, and his hands moved very swiftly.
The gold bar vanished as quickly as it had appeared .
Officials were the same in every era.
"Yes. You can leave the horses here. I, this humble official, will care of them. I, this stupid man, swear on my children, these horse won't lose a single hair by the time you return," the Gatekeeper stammered, bowing low before the unmatched power of royalty and wealth.
"Good! If my horses lose even one hair, your head will take its place." With that, she turned and strode back into the citadel. Her steps were as light as clouds. The morning light shimmered on the Nhị Hà River, sparkling like gold.
At that moment, she was no longer a princess. She was an eighteen-year-old girl, so happy she wanted to embrace the entire worl. Today, she would leave the citadel—not in a golden palanquin, not to the sound of ceremonial music. Today, she would leave with a heart pounding with love, like the festive drums of early spring.
She dashed into Thái Hoà Palace, waving at the stoic Imperial Guards standing like statues. They knew her well and let her pass. She slipped under the wooden platform, weaving behind the massive rosewood pillars of the palace. She emerged near the two stone dragons flanking the steps, where Ngô Tuấn was preparing for court. He was escorting Chế Củ, waiting for the summons from within the palace. Both stood still by the stone dragon, waiting. She whispered just loud enough for him to hear:
"Northern Gate."