My Chau and Trong Thuy

It is night, and a king has ridden to the end of the road. Behind him lies a lost citadel and an army on his trail. In front of him there is nothing but the sea. His daughter sits on the horse at his back, her arms wrapped tightly around him, her white feather cloak stirring in the wind.

Then the water splits open. A turtle as large as a hill rises out of the waves, sea water pouring from its golden shell, and it speaks with a human voice:

The enemy is sitting right behind you.

How does a princess become her own father’s enemy? According to Vietnamese legend, it all began years earlier — with a citadel that would not stay standing.

More than two thousand years ago, King An Duong Vuong ruled the kingdom of Au Lac. To protect it, he set his people to building a great citadel at Co Loa, on the bank of a river.

But the story goes that whatever was raised by day fell down by night. Walls that stood tall at sunset were heaps of earth by dawn. People whispered that evil spirits were tearing the ramparts apart.

So the king built an altar, fasted, and begged the gods for help.

One morning, a great golden turtle rose out of the river to the east. It spoke like a man and named itself the Envoy of Thanh Giang — messenger of the river god.

With the turtle at his side, the king drove out every last spirit. In half a month the citadel was finished.

It was vast, its ramparts coiling round and round like the shell of a snail, and so people called it Loa Thanh — the Snail Citadel.

The Golden Turtle stayed by the king’s side for three years. Then it asked to leave.

Before it went, the turtle pulled off one of its claws and placed it in the king’s hands.

Make this the trigger of a crossbow. Aim it at your enemies, and you will never have to fear again.

The king gave the claw to his general, Cao Lo, who built a great crossbow around it. This was the magic crossbow — and it was soon put to the test.

Trieu Da, lord of Nanyue, the kingdom to the north, marched his army into Au Lac. The king raised the crossbow and fired a single shot. Thousands of arrows rained down from the sky. The Nanyue army broke and fled.

Trieu Da understood that he could never win by force. So he changed his weapon. He asked for peace — and for a marriage. His son, Trong Thuy, would wed the king’s daughter, Princess My Chau.

The king agreed without a trace of suspicion. My Chau and Trong Thuy were married, and as custom allowed, Trong Thuy came to live with his bride’s family — inside the Snail Citadel itself.

The two truly loved each other. At least, that is what she believed.

One day, Trong Thuy sweetly asked his wife to show him the famous crossbow. Innocent and trusting, My Chau led him straight to the shrine where it was kept.

That night, he came back alone. By the light of a single candle he set down a claw he had secretly made, and took the real one away. The secret of an entire kingdom was now in his hands.

Soon after, Trong Thuy asked to go home and visit his father. At the gate, as they said goodbye, he held her hands and asked:

If our two kingdoms ever turn against each other, how will I find you?

I have a cloak of goose feathers. Wherever I flee, I will pluck the feathers and drop them at every crossroads — a sign for you to follow.

Trong Thuy rode north. And as soon as he arrived, Trieu Da sent his army south once more.

The king was calm. “Does Trieu Da not fear my crossbow?” he asked. But when the enemy reached the walls and he pulled the trigger, nothing happened. The magic was gone.

The citadel fell. The king pulled My Chau onto his horse behind him and galloped south through the night. All along the road, she quietly let white feathers fall.

She never knew that every feather was marking the way — for the enemy.

At the edge of the sea, with nowhere left to run, the king cried out: “Envoy of Thanh Giang, where are you? Save me!”

The Golden Turtle rose from the water, and its voice rolled like thunder:

The one riding behind you is your enemy!

In that moment the king understood everything, and he drew his sword.

My Chau knelt on the sand and prayed:

If I have betrayed my father, let my body turn to dust. But if I was loyal, and only deceived, let me become pearls.

And the sword came down.

The story goes that her blood flowed into the sea, and the oysters that drank it turned it into pearls.

As for the king, he took up a rhinoceros horn and held it before him. The waters parted, and he followed the Golden Turtle down into the sea. He was never seen again.

Trong Thuy followed the trail of feathers all the way to the shore. All he found there was his wife’s body. He carried her home and buried her at the Snail Citadel.

Day after day, he seemed to see My Chau’s face in the water of a well. Then one day he threw himself in, and was gone.

It is said that pearls from the eastern sea, washed in the water of that well, shine brighter than any others.

The ramparts of Co Loa still stand just outside Hanoi — rings of earthen walls more than two thousand years old. Visitors are shown a small shrine where My Chau’s statue has no head, and a well in front of the temple known as the Pearl Well.

Vietnamese people still sum up her story in one line: she put her heart where her head should have been. A heart in the wrong place — and a whole kingdom lost.