The Golden Turtle of Sword Lake
by D. A. Cairns
‘I lived in Hoan Kiem Lake and had possession of a Thuan Thein, a magical sword. After lending the sword to Le Loi, who conquered many foes, I was called upon by him when I swam to take Thuan Thien from him and give it back to its divine owner. He feared the sword would corrupt him if he kept it, so he tossed it into the lake with a prayer. When I caught Thuan Thein, I immediately dove to the bottom of the lake.’
‘Bring me another iced coffee,’ said Dragon, interrupting Turtle’s recount.
Turtle stared at him, aghast at his friend’s rudeness. ‘I’m right in the middle of my story, Dragon. Could you not wait until I finish?’
Dragon waved a clawed foot in the air, dismissing Turtle’s protest. Sunlight reflected off the surface of the lake, landing in tiny slivers on his polished black talons. ‘Do you know how many times I have heard this story?’
‘It’s a great story though,’ replied Turtle. ‘One which should never be disrespected.’
‘Of course,’ said Dragon with a sagacious dip of his thorny head. ‘But that is the problem, is it not?’
Turtle approximated a frown.
The two old friends were occupying a streetside table at Hapro Bon Mua, a café on the western shore of Hoan Kiem Lake. The street on which the café was located had been closed to traffic overnight, as had many streets around the lake to provide ease and safety for pedestrians, among whom were many visitors to Hanoi’s old quarter for the Lunar New Year celebrations. Turtle, Dragon, Unicorn and Phoenix visited Hanoi each year to celebrate another year of their ancient friendship.
Presently, Unicorn trotted over to join them, his face plastered with worry.
‘Why the long face?’ asked Dragon, the perpetual jester among them.
Unicorn whinnied and snorted at his attempted humour. ‘After centuries of life, can you not find new material?’
‘It’s an oldie but goodie,’ said Dragon. ‘However, what troubles you, my friend?’
After sitting down and ordering green tea, Unicorn sighed, gazed out across the street to the lake, which shimmered under spring sunshine. A little girl walked past, holding the hand of her grandfather. She wore a pink backpack which became the focus of Unicorn’s attention as they passed by. ‘Look at that!’ he said, pointing a hoof in the direction of the girl and her grandfather. ‘A pink backpack with a rainbow unicorn on it.’
‘Cute,’ said Turtle.
‘Charming,’ added Dragon.
Unicorn stomped his hoof, snorted angrily. ‘Have either of you seen The Cabin in the Woods?’ When both Turtle and Dragon simply stared at him, he explained the premise of the film and said, ‘I was portrayed as a fearsome, awesome beast in that film, and I gored an innocent man to death with my horn.’
Dragon laughed. ‘When was the last time you killed anyone?’
‘Or even got angry with anyone?’ said Turtle. ‘Other than Dragon for making bad jokes all the time.’
‘I feel disrespected,’ said Unicorn. His friends made sad faces brimming with insincerity. ‘That isn’t helpful,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’ll resume my reign of terror starting right here with two disloyal friends.’
‘Take it easy, Unicorn,’ said Turtle. ‘You have no more loyal friends than us, but your reaction to a little girl’s backpack depiction of you is somewhat melodramatic, don’t you think? Naturally, we also feel the loss of status.’
‘Loss of status? Is that what you call it?’ Unicorn continued to stare across the lake after a brief and hostile glance at Dragon and Turtle. ‘Do you know how many movies have been made about dragons?’
Dragon and Turtle shook their heads.
‘Neither do I,’ said Unicorn. ‘But it’s a lot. I mean How to Train Your Dragon has had something like three sequels already.’
‘Now, if you want to talk about disrespect,’ said Dragon. ‘Who started this nonsense about being able to train dragons? If we have masters, it is because it suits us to make them believe they are in control. They love that idea. The notion of being in control, of being masters of their own destiny. They’re obsessive about it. They live like they were born to rule.’
‘You’ve seen Reign of Fire, right?’ said Unicorn.
A puff of smoke escaped Dragon’s large, flared nostrils. ‘Will you stop talking about movies!’
‘That’s kind of the point, though, I think,’ said Turtle, who was the wisest and most circumspect among them. ‘The presence of unicorns on backpacks and dragons in fantasy movies shows we aren’t taken seriously.’
‘There’s an abundance of temple art to suggest otherwise,’ said Dragon. ‘And religion, unlike movies, has existed since the beginning. We are the four sacred animals of Vietnamese culture, are we not?’
‘Speaking of three,’ said Unicorn, ‘where is Phoenix?’
Onlookers might have wondered about all these strange goings on at the roadside table. They may have felt alternate measures of fear and fascination, maybe both simultaneously. Listening to the conversation between the four sacred animals may have surprised them or disappointed them, and they may have felt unable to take their eyes from the godly quartet.
However, no one at the Hapra Bon Mua knew who they were; for all they could see were four friends seated in a crowded café, nestled among so many other people simply chatting and drinking coffee. You see, as part of their magic, the four sacred creatures had cast a spell over themselves so as to appear in disguise.
How could it be any other way? Imagine the uproar caused by the appearance of mythical creatures of immense size and non-corporeal majesty! The four sacred creatures were always careful about when and to whom they appeared in their true fleshly form. They recognized their role and their responsibilities and took them seriously.
While the three were pondering their friend’s absence, the aroma of sandalwood filled the air. Together, they looked for its source, noting a small pile of ashes in the gutter across the street from where they were sitting. As they watched the pile smoulder and enjoyed the fragrance of its emissions, the smoke cloud billowed and darkened. Phoenix materialised from within the smoke, stretching his wings to their full fourteen-metre span. He extended his neck, tilted his head back and squawked to the heavens as fire ignited his feathers.
‘Oh my God!’ said Dragon to Turtle and Unicorn. ‘Can’t Phoenix just arrive like everyone else? Why does it always have to be such a song and dance?’
‘He’s a showman,’ said Turtle.
‘More like a show-off, I would say,’ said Unicorn. ‘Phoenix,’ he called out, ‘when you have finished with your theatrics, come and sit with us.’
‘You know,’ said Dragon, in a lowered voice as Phoenix approached them, ‘Phoenix is probably the least relevant of all of us these days.’
‘I heard that!’ said Phoenix.
‘I think his status is roughly equal to mine,’ said Unicorn.
‘Perhaps,’ said Phoenix, ‘but my performances are vastly superior. Did you see that entrance?’
Dragon yawned, ejecting a brief burst of flame from his nostrils after his jaw snapped shut; a dragonesque version of biting one’s tongue.
It was Turtle who spoke next. ‘I think there is enough evidence to suggest that Vietnamese mythology remains important to people. This may be a communist nation, but Catholicism flourishes, as does Buddhism, and the cultural aspects of the tourist industry should not be overlooked. Even the Water Puppet theatre down the road here promotes ancient beliefs and culture.’
Turtle sipped his drink, allowing the weight of his words to settle in the minds of his friends. Unicorn and Phoenix ordered drinks, both opting for Vietnamese drip coffee.
‘Let’s remember who we are and what we represent to the people of Vietnam,’ continued Turtle, breaking the contemplative silence. In truth, there were few new topics of conversation for this group of friends, and many of their gatherings were riddled with solemn, reflective silences. That, of course, was when Dragon ran out of jokes, and their various individual grievances had been aired.
‘The Vietnamese people were born of the union between a sea dragon and a mountain fairy,’ said Unicorn, warming to Turtle’s spirited defence. ‘Ky Lan — that’s me — is part horse, part dragon and part buffalo; a peaceful, loyal beast, a guardian of holy places. Sea Dragon, lithe and sinuous of body, bears good fortune and brings rain at its proper time. Wise old Turtle, builder of the Co Loa Citadel and bearer of the magical sword, Thuan Thein.’
Dragon groaned. ‘Don’t get him started on that old story again.’
‘All we have are old stories which the people accept as myths, only myths,’ added Phoenix in a voice redolent with sadness and lament.
‘And finally,’ continued Unicorn, ‘the noble and beautiful Phoenix, symbol of elegance and luxury.’
‘That’s just it, isn’t it?’ said Phoenix. ‘We are merely symbols.’
Turtle made a strange, remonstrative tutting sound. ‘Not mere symbols. Powerful, significant, and ubiquitous symbols. We are found everywhere: on buildings, in artwork, song, dance and theatre, ever inspiring and embodying the rich traditions of the Vietnamese people.’
‘That bridge in Danang is pretty cool, isn’t it?’ said Dragon, with a note of obvious pride.
Drinks for Phoenix and Unicorn arrived at their table as the four friends sat in grateful silence. A woman in lycra with a bold yellow headband and an athletic gait walked quickly along the wide sidewalk which framed the lake. Her energetic movements attracted the eye and lifted the spirits of Dragon, Turtle, Unicorn and Phoenix, which had remained flat despite Turtle’s encouragement and assertion of their importance, their relevance.
‘She moves with such purpose and grace,’ noted Unicorn. ‘I feel like trotting beside her, with my head held high.’
‘Go on, my friend,’ said Dragon. ‘Prance, be pretty and gay. Be pink and girly.’
Unicorn immediately stood, stamped his feet several times, snorting, his mane bristling at the insult. ‘Not only offensive to me, but rude and insensitive to women and same-sex attracted men.’
‘What?!’ Phoenix spluttered his coffee across the table.
‘A jest,’ said Dragon, laughing. ‘Just kidding.’ He muttered under his breath. A woke Unicorn, God save us!
‘Always with the jokes,’ replied Unicorn. He aimed his horn at Dragon’s throat and stepped closer. Dragon swatted the horn away, slithered from his seat to the ground then rose on a coil of tense muscles to face Unicorn. The two glared at each other, shaking with barely contained rage.
‘Stop!’ said Turtle. ‘Stop your ridiculous behaviour! We are above such pettiness. The reason we survive as cultural icons is that we represent higher ideals. We stand over little squabbles, even those that humans call war and revolution. We are timeless, omniscient, pure, and impervious to the trite temptations of mortals. We are in fact, their strength.’
‘Now who’s being theatrical?’ said Phoenix. He addressed himself to Dragon and Unicorn, neither of whom had moved nor quelled their anger. ‘Turtle is right, you two. Sit down and act like gods, not children.’
‘We aren’t gods,’ said Dragon.
‘I didn’t say you were,’ replied Phoenix.
Unicorn backed away from Dragon, who followed suit slowly, cautiously as though he expected a sudden escalation of the tension, a breach of the peace. Finally, the two resumed their seats and busied themselves with dignified drinking.
‘Here she comes again,’ said Dragon, happy to move on now that the dust had settled on the conflagration between these mighty spirits.
‘Who?
‘The running woman.’
‘I think she’s just walking fast actually,’ said Unicorn.
‘I wonder how far it is, one lap around the lake?’
‘1.6 kilometres,’ said Turtle. ‘Shall we finish our drinks and go for a walk?’
The others verbalised their agreement with various words and sounds, then fell into gently lapping waves of small talk as they finished their drinks. They may or may not have solved the issue of their relevance in the 21st century nor the respect or lack of respect shown them, to everyone’s satisfaction, but that was no longer important. The discussion was a concession to their nature, an undefined acknowledgement of the fact they were not gods, but merely the offspring of the divine nature of the universe.
Turtle, Dragon, Unicorn, and Phoenix stood as one to begin their leisurely walk around Hoan Kiem Lake.
‘I hope I do not see any more pink unicorns surrounded by rainbows,’ said Unicorn. ‘Or my pleasure in walking and chatting with old friends may quickly sour.’
Dragon slithered along the footpath, ejecting streams of fire to and fro, almost joyful, certainly content. ‘Surely nothing can spoil this bliss, our friendship, this beautiful country, and its faithful people. What could ruin it? Indeed, what could make it any better?’
‘Ice cream,’ said Phoenix. ‘Ice cream makes everything better.’
‘True,’ said Turtle. ‘Very true.’
‘And perhaps,’ said Dragon, ‘if I buy one for you, Turtle, you will promise to stop telling me the story of the magical sword every time we meet.’
Turtle smiled. ‘Perhaps.’
Copyright © 2026 by D. A. Cairns
