Ho Han Thuong

A boy named Hồ Hán Thương stood in the yard of a stone citadel that still smelled of kiln smoke, looking up at walls that grew taller every day. His grandmother on his father's side told him stories of change and mending. His grandmother on his mother's side told him stories of guarding the country. The two kinds of story grew together in his heart, like two streams flowing into one river.

His mother was a princess of the Trần royal house, and his father was Hồ Quý Ly, a famous reformer. On his mother's side he came from the Trần royal family, a line that had guarded the country through many generations. On his father's side he came from the Hồ family, people who loved to mend and renew, and who wished for the people to have enough to eat, warm homes and more schooling. He grew up between the two families, loved by his grandparents on both sides.

When he was grown, Hồ Hán Thương became the second emperor of the Hồ dynasty. He took the throne in 1401. He chose the reign name Thiệu Thành and later changed it to Khai Đại. His father became a retired emperor, and he still helped his son with the work of the country. The two of them cared for the people together, one leading and one following in his steps.

The biggest task he shared with his father was building the citadel.

It was a citadel raised entirely of stone. Workers had to find the stone and cut it, then lift each block, weighing many tons, into place. The blocks fit so closely that no mortar was needed. In 1401, Hồ Hán Thương ordered the brick kilns to fire bricks to help raise it. The kiln fires burned red day and night and the smoke rose to the sky. Brick by brick and slab by slab, the walls grew sturdy and strong.

That citadel was called Tây Đô, and it was chosen as the capital of the country. Today it is the Citadel of the Hồ Dynasty. It stands in the Vĩnh Lộc area of Thanh Hóa province. For more than 600 years of rain and sun, its stone walls have stood there, tall and quiet, as if they remembered the hands that raised them.

But however firm the stone, a citadel only truly lives when its people have enough to eat.

In 1401, under his rule, the state counted the people of the whole country. He sent officials everywhere to knock on each door and write down each name. It was not to make demands. It was to know how many people there were, so that he could provide for them all, like parents counting their children before a meal. He also looked after the land, and he waived or reduced taxes for poor families who had no fields to plow. In the fields the rice turned green again, and in the pots of hard-pressed families there was one more bowl of rice.

There was one more thing he valued highly, and that was learning.

The Hồ dynasty believed that a country needs many talented people to grow strong. In 1404, the court reset the rules of the examinations and held exams to choose able men to serve the country. The Quốc Tử Giám was then the court's great school, where fine teachers taught. Night after night, by the light of an oil lamp, young students worked at their letters. They hoped that one day they would pass, and use what they had learned to help the people and the country.

A young emperor followed his father, raised a citadel of stone, cared for his people and opened a path for children to learn. He did it all with a love of his country that he had learned from both families.

The wall he helped to raise still stands under the open sky. The stone is still cool and silent, and it goes on telling the story of a young emperor who loved this country with both bloodlines in his heart.