Mulan Goes to War

Click-clack, click-clack. The shuttle moved back and forth across the loom, as steady as on any other day, and the sound drifted through the doorway into the narrow lane. Then, all at once, the shuttle stopped. In the house there was only a very soft sigh.

The one at the loom was a young woman named Mulan. On other days her hands sent the shuttle flying, and thread by thread, warp and weft, the cloth grew. But today her hands let the shuttle rest. She gazed toward the door without seeing anything, her heart heavy with a worry she could not put into words.

About 1,500 years ago, in China, people sang of her in just this way. They sang it in an old ballad called the Ballad of Mulan, a song that told a story. No one knows who first sang it. People passed it on by word of mouth for generation after generation, and then wrote it down in books, so that it can still be heard today.

The night before, Mulan had seen the army notice. The king was calling up soldiers from every corner to guard the frontier. The notice sent to the village came in twelve scrolls. She read them again and again, and it was always the same. Her father's name was on every one. And there was no grown son to go in his place, because Mulan had no older brother, and her younger brother was still far too small.

Mulan sat silent at the loom for a long while. Then she stood up. She would buy a horse, a saddle and a bridle, dress in men's clothes, and go to war in her father's place.

The next morning she went around all four markets of the area to gather what she needed. At the east market she chose a strong horse. At the west market she bought a saddle and a saddle cloth. The bridle came from the south market, and the long whip from the north market. Piece by piece, she made ready for a journey longer than any she had ever known.

Early on the morning she set out, she bowed to her father and mother and urged her horse north. That evening she stopped to camp on the bank of the Yellow River. She was far from the village now. Her parents' voices, calling their daughter's name, no longer reached her. In her ears there was only the rushing water of the Yellow River, roaring all night without rest.

Early the next morning she left the riverbank and rode on. By evening she had reached the Black Mountain on the frontier. When night fell, among range after range of mountains and forest, she listened for some familiar sound of home and found none. From far away came only the neighing of the northern riders' horses in the dark.

The old ballad tells of the years of war that followed in very few lines, as if the singer, too, did not wish to linger on the battlefield. The army crossed mountains and passes as fast as birds in flight. The north wind blew in, carrying the icy clang of the night watch gong. A cold light shone on iron armor. Of the generals who had fought a hundred battles, some never came home. And the steadfast soldier, one day, returned home. Twelve years, told in just these few images, and yet they feel like a long stretch of hardship passing by.

When the army came home at last, Mulan went with the troops to appear before the king in the great hall. Her deeds were plainly recorded, and the rewards were generous. The king asked what more she wished for. A high post at court would have suited such a fine soldier well. But Mulan shook her head. She said she had no wish for any office. She asked only for a strong and very fast horse to carry her home in time.

News of her return flew to the village ahead of the horse's hooves. Her old father and mother were so overjoyed that they helped each other out to the edge of the town to watch for her. Her older sister hurried to put on her finest makeup and stood waiting by the door. The little brother, so small all those years ago, was grown now. Hearing that his sister was coming, he eagerly sharpened his knife, swish, swish, and prepared pork and goat meat for a big welcome-home feast.

Mulan stepped into the house. She opened the door of the east room and sat down on the bed in the west room, looking around at the familiar corners of home after twelve years away. Then she took off her battle robe and put on the old dress she used to wear. She sat by the window and calmly combed out her long hair. She looked into the mirror and pressed a small yellow flower to her forehead, just as she used to.

When she was ready, she went outside to greet the soldiers who had come all the way home with her. They were dumbfounded and stood rooted in the yard, unable to believe their eyes. Twelve years of marching together, eating and sleeping together out in the wind and the dew, and not one of them had known that Mulan was a woman.

Twelve scrolls of the army notice that year, and her father's name on every one. Twelve years of war after that, and in every one of them, a young woman quietly serving in her father's place. What she asked for herself, after all those years, was only the shortest road home, where the little loom still stood waiting by the old doorway.

The old singers ended the ballad with a playful image. When the male rabbit sits still, his front feet keep kicking and fidgeting. When the female rabbit sits still, her eyes are half closed and dreamy. But when the two rabbits run side by side across the ground, no one can tell which is the male and which is the female.