So I passed time reading my uncle’s books. I loved his books. I was very careful not to soil them or wrinkle a single page. I was always mindful to put them back where I found them on the bookshelf in my uncle’s study. I was thankful that he never said anything to me about sneaking into the male area of the house to borrow his books. Though I didn’t understand everything in them—after all, they were meant for scholarly men much older than me—they gave my life some perspective. Through the pages of those books, I tried to hear the spirits of my ancestors, the kings and queens of Korea. I tried to understand the meaning of things as I had done with my mother sitting on the bank of the Han River. But I heard no spirits and I didn’t find any understanding.
After the palace messenger left and Mr. Yang gave me that look, I tried to read another poem, but I could no longer focus on the words. I shut the book and wondered why they had regarded me the way they did. I looked at the House of Gamgodang. It was the house of a wealthy man—a yangban—much larger than my parents’ house near the Han River. It was a compound with many buildings. The main house where my uncle and aunt lived was built on a timber-frame platform two feet off the ground with steps leading up to it on all sides. It had white stucco walls and a dark-blue tiled roof that turned up gracefully at the corners. Off to one side were rooms for the staff and other members of the Min clan. Outside was a courtyard, gardens, a small orchard, stables, and storehouses. A four-foot wall topped with the same blue tile as the house surrounded the entire compound. Beyond the wall were the streets of Seoul. As befitting a man of importance, the house was on the main boulevard a mile south of the king’s residence, Gyeongbok Palace, where the messenger had come from.
Suddenly a kitchen maid came out of the back door carrying a bamboo-leaf basket and ran to the storehouse. Another ran to the fowl coop and disappeared inside. I could hear the chickens squawk and flap their wings. The house’s heavy wooden front door opened, and my aunt and her lady’s maid came out. My aunt could be described as being statuesque and having a pleasantly round face. She held her chima above her ankles as she walked through the bamboo grove toward me. Her maid was as short and plump as my aunt was tall and lean. Her face was always red. She walked three steps behind her mistress with the half bow she employed when my aunt was upset.
My uncle’s wife, her name was Su-mi Kim, came to me and held out her hand. “Someday, child, you will fall into a book and have to live the rest of your life among the pages. Come, the king’s mother is coming to see you.”
I was stunned. “Lady Min?” I said. “Coming to see me?” I couldn’t believe the king’s mother even knew I existed. “Why?”
“I do not know,” my aunt said. “Now come, quickly. We do not have time to waste.”
I handed the book to my aunt and followed her to the house. Her lady’s maid walked behind still in a half bow. We went inside. The house had a large main room with dark-wood ceiling beams and wood floors covered with dried rush mats. Along one wall was a zelkova-root wooden chest with polished brass fittings. Against another was a Chinese tray table with thick bamboo-formed legs. A blue-green celadon pot sat in one corner, and an oil pendulum lamp on an iron stand was in another. There was a kitchen off to one side, and the servant’s quarters were beyond that. Separated from the main room by sliding walls were a series of rooms—sleeping rooms, a bath area, and my uncle’s study. Altogether, the house was simple and clean, as a proper Confucian house should be.
Inside, the entire staff was busy at work. A housemaid dressed in a commoner’s cotton durumagi hurriedly dusted the lattice on the windows. Another moved the floor mats and swept underneath. In the kitchen, maids fussed at the sink and the cast-iron stove. The footman hurried in from the back with a bucket of coal and placed it on the kitchen floor. The scullery maid dragged in two pails of water from the well. Now that she was inside the house, my aunt’s lady’s maid—her name was Eun-ji—stood from her half bow and began clapping her hands and barking orders at the staff. “Get the large celadon pots from the storeroom and place them along the wall, there,” she said, pointing. “Make sure they are well cleaned. You,” she said to the housemaid sweeping the floor, “be sure to shake out the mats. Do a good job of it or else!” She raised a finger. “Plum blossoms! We should have plum blossoms.” She lifted her chima and marched into the kitchen, her face redder than usual. “Have the gardener cut stems. Prepare some warm water and sugar to force them to open. Quickly! The king’s mother is coming!”
My aunt, Eun-ji, and Mr. Yang had trained the staff well. Everyone moved with purpose and haste, taking quick steps across the wooden floor and keeping their heads low. They did not dare make a mistake or overlook the slightest detail for fear of being demoted or kicked to the street.
As the staff attended to their duties, my aunt gave me a long look. “You should have a bath. Eun-ji, come,” she ordered.
Eun-ji scurried into the main room and gave my aunt a small bow. “Yes, ma’am?” she said.
“We need to bathe and dress Ja-young for Lady Min,” my aunt said. “She looks like a peasant girl.”
“I do not,” I protested as I looked down at my smudged and wrinkled clothes.
“Yes, you do,” Eun-ji said, inspecting me with the same pose as my aunt. “She does not have a proper hanbok,” she said to my aunt. “And yours will not fit her skinny bones.”
“We’ll have to make do with the hanbok she has,” my aunt said. “Bathe her now, and prepare her hair. Do your best with her hanbok.”
“I do not want to meet Lady Min,” I said. “Why does she want to see me?”
“This is not a time to argue, child,” my aunt said. “Now go with Eun-ji.”
Eun-ji grabbed me by the arm. “Myeong-ki!” Eun-ji called out to the senior housemaid as she led me to the bath. “Make hot water for the bath and fetch Ja-young’s hanbok. She must be well turned-out for the Grand Lady Min.”
A few minutes later, I sat in the big iron tub as Eun-ji and Myeong-ki scrubbed me with a coarse wool cloth and honey locust-seed soap until I was afraid my skin would come off. Normally, I would have protested such a harsh treatment, but they were preparing me to meet the Grand Lady Min and I knew that protesting would do no good. They dried me and put me in clean undergarments—gojaengi pants and a jeoksam blouse. Then they went to work on my hair. As two maids dried my hair with bamboo-leaf fans, Myeong-ki combed out my tangles. She was none too gentle. She tugged so hard I thought my hair would tear right out of my scalp. But I refused to cry out or even complain. I knew that if I did, she would have only pulled harder. When my hair was straight, they twisted it into three tight braids and tied them together with a red daenggi ribbon.
My aunt came in with my hanbok, which they had just pressed in the kitchen. It had a pink chima and yellow jeogori with a black bow. It was a plain hanbok, not like the silk embroidered one with gold trim my aunt wore to formal events. But I liked mine just the same. Eun-ji and Myeong-ki slipped the skirt over my legs and wrapped the jacket around my waist. They had me step into a pair of my aunt’s brocade silk slippers that were too large for me.
My aunt took a long step back and examined me. “She is thin like a willow stick,” she said.
Eun-ji stepped back, too, and posed alongside my aunt. “We can put another layer underneath,” she said.
My aunt shook her head. “No. Lady Min is too shrewd for that. She will know what we are trying to do. Ja-young will have to meet her being skinny.”
Outside, there were horses galloping toward the house. They stopped at the gate. My aunt and Eun-ji ran to the main room. I stayed back, just behind the sliding wall. My uncle came through the front door followed closely by Mr. Yang. My uncle’s name was Chul-jo Min, and he was a leader of the Min clan. Like my father, he was tall, lean, and had soft, onyx eyes. He wore his goatee and mustache closely trimmed like a diplomat rather than long and loose like a scholar. As he took off his topcoat, he addressed my aunt. “Mr. Yang tells me Lady Min will attend my house to
day. Do we know why?”
My aunt said, “The messenger only said she wants to see Ja-young.”
“Why does Her Excellency want to see my niece?”
Eun-ji stepped forward. “Master,” she said bending at the waist, “there is gossip on the street that the Taewŏn-gun has not found anyone in the Yi clan that his son wishes to marry. They are searching the countryside to find someone who will please the boy king. Ja-young is the right age.”
“But wouldn’t Lady Min have us bring the girl to the palace?” my aunt asked. “Why is she coming to this house to see Ja-young?”
My uncle nodded knowingly and folded himself down onto a floor cushion. My aunt did the same as Eun-ji and Mr. Yang stayed standing. “Because,” my uncle said, “the king’s mother is a Min and the palace is the House of Yi. Perhaps Lady Min wishes our clan to have a seat on the throne, and she doesn’t want the Taewŏn-gun to know about Ja-young until we have had time to prepare her.”
“Yes,” my aunt said, “that is a good explanation.”
My uncle scanned the room. “Where is Ja-young? I want to see her.”
Eun-ji clapped her hands. “Ja-young!” she shouted. “Come!”
I stepped from behind the door into the main room.
“We readied her for Lady Min as best as we could,” my aunt said.
“Come closer,” my uncle ordered. He inspected me with his dark eyes for a few seconds. I thought he would say something about how skinny I was or that a silly girl who spent all day reading books wasn’t fit to be the king’s wife. But he said, “Listen to me carefully, Ja-young. When Lady Min arrives, you will not make eye contact with her and you will say nothing unless she asks you a question. You will address her as ‘Your Excellency’ and answer her questions directly. You will say nothing more. Do you understand?”
“I do not want to marry the king,” I said.
My uncle nodded. “Well, for now all you need to do is meet Lady Min. And this, you must do,” he said firmly.
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“Good,” he said. “Now wait in my study. My wife and I will see to it that the house is ready to receive Lady Min.”
FIVE
I did as I was told and waited for Lady Min in my uncle’s study. It felt strange to be allowed in the male quarters of the house. The room had the smell of burnt sandalwood from the incense my uncle liked to burn when he worked there. The study had a low desk with an inkwell, several quill pens, and calligraphy brushes in a small pot. Along one wall was his bookshelf filled with books. I went to it and ran my hand over the books’ spines. I had read nearly every one, and I loved their stories and poems. I wished that instead of meeting Lady Min, I could do as my aunt had said earlier and fall into a book and live forever among the pages.
I left the bookshelf and went to a wall that looked out over the garden and the street beyond. My uncle’s house had windows with real glass panes from China. The glass was wavy and had bubbles in it, but I found a corner where the view of the street was clear. I positioned myself to watch for Lady Min.
I had seen Grand Lady Min once before. I was with my mother on the way home from the market when royal guards on horses came trotting down the street. They shoved and kicked people away and said, “Move aside! Her Excellency is coming on this street.” My mother pulled me next to a wall and told me to lower my head. As the entourage passed by, I was so curious I couldn’t resist sneaking a look. I lifted my eyes and in front of me was an extraordinary red and gold palanquin carried by eight barefoot porters dressed in black robes. The palanquin had a high roof topped with a bulbous finial. On each corner was a carved head of a dragon with its long tongue curled up. The palanquin’s box was three wooden panels painted red and decorated with painted cranes and landscapes. In the front was a yellow curtain made from what looked like Chinese silk. The palanquin’s long poles rested on the shoulders of the porters, who stepped in perfect unison so that the palanquin traveled smoothly along the street.
Then I looked through the palanquin’s curtains and caught a glimpse of the grand lady riding inside. For just an instant, our eyes met. I quickly lowered my head and prayed she would not send a guard to whip me for looking at her. No guard came and after the entourage had gone, my mother and I went home. As I waited for her now, I worried that she would recognize me—the disrespectful girl who dared to make eye contact with her five years earlier. I was taller now and I was no longer a girl. But it was said that Lady Min was very quick. I prayed she wouldn’t remember that day at the market when our eyes met.
As I watched the road, I thought about what Eun-ji had said about why Lady Min was coming to see me. I slept in a room next to the servant’s quarters and had heard the maids talk about how the Taewŏn-gun was looking for a wife for his son, King Gojong. They practiced in the kitchen passageway, bowing to a pretend king. One of the older girls joked about what she would do on her wedding night if she was the one who they selected. The other girls giggled at the joke, covering their mouths as they did.
But I knew better. Unlike the maids who were nobi—slaves and indentured servants—my father and mother had been yangban, though in the last few years they had fallen on hard times. My father was a fine Confucian scholar. The palace sometimes employed him, and he told me about their eccentric ways. I knew they would never choose a nobi to marry the king. I also doubted very much that they would choose an orphan like me. No, certainly they would choose a noble yangban girl, someone worthy of sitting on the throne.
I had never thought about marriage when I lived in my house by the Han River. Perhaps I was too young. Or maybe I was too content. Now, waiting for Lady Min in my uncle’s study, I tried to picture myself marrying the king, but I could not. I had never been inside the palace, and I couldn’t imagine being part of that world. The royal family was a mystery to someone like me. The housemaids gossiped about extravagant affairs at the palace with strange people from faraway lands. They said the palace had rare animals and foods and inventions most people had never heard of. Surely, none of it could be true. Then again, I really did not know. As for King Gojong, though he lived only a mile away, I didn’t even know what he looked like, or if he was kind and gentle, or coarse and mean. As far as I was concerned, he might as well have lived on the moon.
I heard horses coming down the street. Two palace guards dressed in long red robes and broad-brimmed black hats rode high in the saddles of their horses. Following them were two more guards on foot, each carrying a long lance with a wide shiny blade. Behind them was Lady Min’s palanquin that I had seen years earlier, flanked by guards and carried by eight barefoot porters dressed in black robes. Behind them was a smaller, less ornate palanquin carried by only four men. These porters did not step in unison, and their palanquin swayed and bounced as they moved. The procession came to a stop at the gate. Then, as if they were performing a slow dance together, the first palanquin’s porters lifted it from their shoulders and carefully lowered it to the ground. The other palanquin’s porters lowered their load less carefully and the palanquin wobbled and came to a thud on the street.
A guard on horseback called out. “Anyohaseyo! Her Excellency, Lady Min, calls on this house. Come and receive her.”
There was movement in the main room, and I heard the clink of the latch on the front door. Outside, a guard stepped to the palanquin and lifted the curtain. He took a woman’s hand and bowed low as Lady Min stepped out. She was younger than I’d expected. She looked to be not much older than my mother had been when she died. Her figure was full and adorned with an elaborate gold and blue hanbok. She wore a headpiece of a noble married woman made from two wide braids of fine cloth that covered her hair and the back of her neck. She stepped from the palanquin to the front of the house and out of my sight. Out of the other palanquin stepped a short man with a long mustache. He wore a top hat, woolen slacks, and a European-style waist jacket. He followed Lady Min.
I went to the wall between the study and main room and listene
d. I heard my uncle welcome Lady Min into his house. He called for Mr. Yang and Eun-ji. I heard the kitchen staff bring out tea and food. After a few minutes, my uncle and Lady Min began to talk. I listened as best as I could, but I could only hear a few words: “our clan” and “opportunity” and “the king” and “the girl.” My heart skipped a beat at those last words. I still couldn’t believe they were talking about me. I hoped they were discussing the merits of some other girl and Lady Min was only asking my uncle for advice about her. But then I remembered that the messenger had said she was coming to see me.
My uncle called to me from the large room. “Ja-young, come at once,” he ordered.
I was stricken with panic. I thought about running out the back door, past the stables and over the compound wall, disappearing into Seoul where they wouldn’t make me their queen. But I didn’t know where I would go or who would take me in. I would be alone on the streets with no food or place to live. To survive, I would have to become a slave, a nobi, like the housemaids and the thousands of slaves throughout Seoul, bought and sold as chattel among the yangban and merchant class. Or I could step out into the great room and present myself as someone who would be queen. If they chose me, I would live among strange people in their strange world, the wife of a man I did not know. My choice was simple. I could run and be a slave or present myself as someone who could be queen. Both choices terrified me.
“Ja-young!” my uncle repeated. I took a deep breath and walked into the main room with my head low. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, watching for any mistakes I might make. Though I had my head bowed, I saw that my uncle and Lady Min were sitting at the Chinese table. I went to them. Lady Min held out a hand and someone helped her to her feet. My uncle stood with her.
“Come closer,” Lady Min said. Her voice was low and full of authority. I took a step forward and bowed low. She reached out and lifted my chin. I kept my eyes down, not daring to look at her face as I did when I was young. She turned my head from side to side and muttered, “Hmmm.” She brought her hand to my breast and squeezed it, first one, and then the other. “Uh-huh,” she said, taking her hand away.
The Dragon Queen Page 4
