The Dragon Queen

by William Andrews

  Finally I spoke again. “I can help, my king. I have learned about the ways of the world, about politics and economics. I can speak Japanese now. Let me help you.”

  Gojong shook his head. “I can’t do anything.”

  I huffed at him. “You are the king!” I exclaimed. “You can take charge. You can save your throne if you act now.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to.” He looked over at the tray on the chest and then at me. “Maybe I could if I had a son,” he said simply.

  I looked at him. His hair was greasy and his skin was pale. He had lost weight, and there were dark circles around his eyes. He looked sad, like a man who had nothing to live for. He was the king, the most powerful man in the country, but his laziness and hedonism had turned him into a puppet and his father held the strings.

  I was disgusted with him, but I pitied him, too. Like me, he hadn’t chosen his position. He was only thirteen years old when they crowned him king. But now he was the age when he should take over from his father. But he couldn’t do it.

  As I sat across the table from my husband, I felt a kinship with him. We had a common foe—the Taewŏn-gun and the way he controlled us. But if we didn’t muster the courage to confront him now, perhaps we never would.

  I said, “Did you finish with her?”

  “Who?” the king asked.

  I pointed to the door. “The tall pretty one.”

  “No,” the king replied. “You interrupted us before I could.”

  I stood and started to undress in front of him. Gojong stared at me as I let my robe fall to the floor. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Finish with me,” I said, slipping out of my jeoksam and gojaengi undergarments. “Finish with me and I will make you a son. And then we can talk about how we will take over the government from your father.”

  I was naked now and I went to him. I took off his robe and pressed myself into him. At first he didn’t respond. Then he pulled me in close.

  The sex was like nothing we’d ever had before. There was still no love in it, no real affection for the other. It was a physical, greedy, lusty act meant to satisfy only ourselves. For me it was an expression of my anger with the Taewŏn-gun for arresting my uncle and for controlling my every movement as if I was a common woman. It was frustration with not being able to bear a prince for my king and country. It seemed that the sex was much the same for Gojong.

  And when it was over, when we lay on the silk covers, exhausted but consummated, we said nothing. After a while, I got out of bed and dressed. Gojong went to the chest, took the tray of opium to his desk, and started to smoke it as if I wasn’t there. As the sweet, smoky smell filled the room, I left the king’s bedchamber and went back to my quarters.

  Now I knew for certain what I had suspected before—the Taewŏn-gun held important meetings without the king and me. I assumed he did so because I had started to ask questions and give my opinion in the afternoon meetings. As queen, I could veto the Taewŏn-gun’s decisions, as long as the king didn’t side with his father. Since Gojong didn’t care about much of anything outside his small world and could have just as easily sided with me, it was safer for the regent to hold meetings without us.

  I had to put an end to this. I was the second most powerful person in Korea—officially, anyway—and the Taewŏn-gun was making policies and decisions on my behalf as well as the king’s. I had seen firsthand that the country was in turmoil, and the Taewŏn-gun’s policies were making things worse. He’d had my uncle arrested for helping me, and I was powerless to rescue him. Someone needed to do something, and if Gojong wasn’t going to take charge, I would do it for him. I had to hope that my husband would support me.

  A few weeks after I had visited the House of Gamgodang, an important issue came up in the afternoon meeting. The Taewŏn-gun was at his usual place, on a cushion in the middle of the table’s long side, flanked by his advisers. At the end of the table, the king was in his chair positioned above all the others. As he always did, Gojong slouched, barely paying attention. I sat in my chair behind him, facing the group as I always did now. The court secretary read a letter from the court of Empress Cixi, the powerful dowager empress of China. The letter said that the Chinese were feuding with the Japanese over islands in the East China Sea and they demanded that we support them in the matter. It was a particularly sensitive issue that should have been decided with the king and me present. But the Taewŏn-gun waved off the discussion, saying the council would discuss it later.

  I pushed myself closer to the group to a place just behind the king. “Begging your pardon, Excellency,” I said, “but this is a decision the king should be involved in. We should resolve it here, now.”

  The Taewŏn-gun gave me an almost imperceptible nod and turned to Gojong. “Majesty,” he said, “this is not something we should bother you with now. We will look into it and discuss it at another meeting.”

  Gojong raised his head from his slouch. First, he looked at his father, then he looked at me. Since the time we’d had our passionate sex in his bedchamber, the king and I had been together several times more. Each was as passionate as that first time. In this, we had developed a loose kinship of sorts. So Gojong said, “Do as the queen says.” He sat up and started to take more interest in the discussion.

  The Taewŏn-gun stared at the king for several seconds. Then he nodded. “As you wish, Majesty,” he said.

  The discussion went forward with the ministers expressing their opinions and debating the merits and pitfalls of different courses of action. Minister Kim led the group in favor of supporting the Chinese, and he made a sound case for it. The Taewŏn-gun waved off the minister’s argument and said that we should support the Japanese instead. “We have had to show deference to China for hundreds of years,” he declared. “It is time we break free. We will align with the Japanese. They can help us with the Chinese.”

  The advisers didn’t dare to challenge the regent, and so the debate was over. The Taewŏn-gun was about to issue his decision in favor of Japan, but I did not agree with it. If I was going to help my husband take over, if I was going find my uncle, if I was going to be a dragon queen, I had to speak up now. “You are correct, Excellency,” I said. “Japan can be an ally. But perhaps they are becoming too strong. Throughout history, nations that are closest to their friends do the most harm when they turn. The wiser course would be to maintain a balance, one ally against the other.”

  There was a long silence. The ministers stared at the table, not daring to raise their eyes to either the Taewŏn-gun or me. Gojong looked from me to his father. “Well, Father, she makes a good point. That is what we will do.”

  It was the first time the king had ever expressed an opinion, much less issued a directive. The Taewŏn-gun went slack-jawed and said, “Begging your pardon, Majesty, but we should wait before we reply to the Chinese. To see what happens.”

  “No,” I said. “By doing nothing, we support Japan. Instead, send a reply to Empress Cixi that we support China in this matter. Then send a carefully written apology to Emperor Meiji stating that we consider the Japanese to be a great friend, but we believe the Chinese are justified in their position regarding the islands.”

  The Taewŏn-gun pushed himself forward, “But Majesty,” he said, “I—”

  “You have made your case, Excellency,” I said in a firm tone that I had never used before in the afternoon meetings. “You need not promote it any further. Issue the letter.”

  The Taewŏn-gun gave me a look, and this time it wasn’t at all subtle. He turned to Gojong. “Majesty. This is not a wise course of action. I recommend that we wait on this matter.”

  Gojong shook his head. “Yes, you’ve said that. Do as the queen says. Now, I am growing tired of this. Let’s move on.”

  And so the issue was resolved, and the secretary noted in the record book that the palace would write a letter of support to the Chinese and another to the Japanese carefully explaining our position
. Gojong went back into his slouch, and the meeting ended a short while later.

  SEVENTEEN

  1871

  Gojong and I continued having sex . . . until I realized that I was pregnant. I was weeks late in my bleeding time when I noticed my breasts were sore. One morning a wave of nausea came over me. I called out for Han-sook, who came running into my bedchamber.

  “Yes, Majesty?” she said, out of breath.

  “I am sick in my stomach,” I said. “But now it’s gone.”

  Han-sook smiled a little. “Forgive me, Majesty, but I have noticed that your breasts are swelled and you are thick in your legs. And now this morning you are sick in your stomach.”

  “Hmmm,” I said. “Does that mean . . . ?”

  Han-sook broke into a full smile. “I think you are pregnant, Majesty.”

  I sat on my bed. The room began to spin, and I was sick again. “A bowl!” I said. “Quickly!”

  Han-sook ran from the room, but before she could return, I fell to the floor and vomited. Seconds later Han-sook burst into the room with a servant carrying a large porcelain bowl. “It’s too late,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, Majesty,” Han-sook said. “Lie back until the sickness passes.”

  As the servant cleaned the mess on the floor, Han-sook attended to me like a mother attends to her baby. She rested my head on pillows and covered me with silk linens. But I was fine after I had vomited, and I said so to Han-sook. “If you please, Majesty,” she replied, “you must rest until the doctor sees you. I have sent a guard to fetch him.”

  Han-sook stayed by my side until, minutes later, the royal doctor came rushing in. He was a large older man with long gray hair and a shaved face. He wore the long black robe and red sash of a man of medicine. His thick glasses made his eyes look as big as fish eyes. He carried a leather bag. He bowed and came to my side. While Han-sook looked on, the doctor pressed my stomach and examined my breasts. He produced a wooden stethoscope from his bag and listened to my heart. With his glasses perched on the end of his nose, he looked inside my mouth. He asked how long it had been since I’d had my last bleed. When I said it was nearly two months, he nodded, put his stethoscope in his bag, and declared that I was pregnant. He said that I was perfectly healthy and that I shouldn’t worry. And then he said with an air of authority, that all indications were that the baby would be a boy.

  After the doctor’s visit, word about my condition spread like wildfire throughout the palace. The happy anticipation in Gyeongbok was the same as when I was to be crowned queen. It was almost festive. An heir to the throne was on its way, and it would be a boy! A prince for the king and for all of Korea! Han-sook could barely contain her joy. She stood guard over me like a dog protects her pups. I wasn’t able to do a thing before she would grab the task from me and gleefully do it herself. Three times every day, she fed me chicken broth with ginseng root. “For the baby,” she said. Everyone was even more flattering than they had been before. The guards bowed lower and the servants moved faster. There were always two or three maids standing by. To them, I was more than a queen now. I was practically a god.

  It wasn’t until days after the doctor said I was pregnant that the king visited me in my quarters. Typically, a husband wouldn’t concern himself with his wife’s pregnancy. Making a child was a woman’s duty. The husband only became interested after the child was born—especially if the child was a son. I was in my study when the guard announced him. I wasn’t surprised that he had come. He beamed at me. Then he scowled. “You should be in bed, wife,” he said.

  I smiled. “I am fine. I get more rest than I need these days.”

  He came and sat on a cushion next to me. He was still gaunt and pale, but now, there was a light in his eyes. I hoped that giving him a son would turn him from his irresponsible ways.

  He sat by my side and regarded me as if I was a delicate thing that would break if he touched me. “The doctor says he thinks it will be a boy.”

  “He cannot know,” I said. “But I hope it is.”

  “It will be a boy,” the king said, lifting his chin. “I know.”

  It made me happy that my husband was pleased that I was pregnant. But I hadn’t forgotten about the Taewŏn-gun’s secret meetings, or that my uncle was missing. I had promised my aunt that I would find her husband, but with the Taewŏn-gun in control, I couldn’t. I turned to Gojong. “Husband, now that I am pregnant, we can take over the government. Your father would not dare oppose us.”

  The king suddenly got up from his cushion and stood with his back to me. “I don’t care about that,” he said. “You shouldn’t, either. If you worry about these things, you will not make a healthy son.”

  “But it is your time to take over.”

  He turned to me and scowled. “It is all a silly game, you and my father. I don’t want to play it anymore. We should let him do as he sees fit.”

  “I’ve already started to challenge him. We cannot stop now.”

  Gojong glared at me. “Be silent, wife. You will upset the baby.”

  “If we do nothing, what will become of our son? What kind of prince will he be? If you want our son to be a strong prince, if you want him to be king someday, you must take charge now. You must lead the way for him or he will never be king.”

  “Our son will be king,” he declared.

  “Yes, he will,” I said. “But first you must be king. And that means you must take over from your father.”

  The king thought about what I said for a moment. Then his shoulders sagged, and he looked both scared and tired at the same time. He would have to give up his wine and opium, study his books, and most importantly, he would have to challenge his father.

  I took his hand. “I will help you,” I said. “Together, we can do it.”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “I do,” I replied. “We must, for our son.”

  The king sighed heavily. He turned away and said, “Be sure our son is healthy.” Then he walked out of my bedchamber.

  Now that I was pregnant, everyone expected me to stay in my quarters and not concern myself with the state’s affairs. But I now had an advantage over the Taewŏn-gun. I had the king’s favor, and no one, not even the regent, would dare upset me for fear of harming the future prince.

  So I started to take charge. I sent money and servants to help my aunt, Mr. Yang, and Eun-ji. I gave the general of the army the task of finding my uncle. He always reported that he had found nothing. Eventually I came to believe that he was following the Taewŏn-gun’s orders and doing nothing to find my uncle. In the afternoon meetings, I challenged the Taewŏn-gun whenever I thought he was wrong. When he fought for new taxes, I remembered how his high taxes had destroyed the House of Gamgodang and I fought to have them lowered. When he wanted to replace an official with someone from the Yi clan, I put forward a different, honest man for the position. When he argued for close relations with the Japanese, I reminded him that the Japanese were modernizing and growing more powerful under the new government of Emperor Meiji.

  During these confrontations, the king sat in his chair at the head of the table and tried to pay attention. His mind was unclear and his attention was short. All the same, he was trying. And since I carried his son in my womb, he sided with me most of the time. But sometimes when the Taewŏn-gun was particularly adamant about his position, he would glare at his son and Gojong would wither like an abused dog. Then the king would side with his father.

  My pregnancy proceeded as the doctor had said it would. Eventually my morning sickness subsided, and I was energized by my condition. Just like the king, I was thrilled to be fulfilling the hopes of a nation for an heir to the throne. When my stomach grew heavy, the doctor—and therefore Han-sook—only let me leave my quarters for the afternoon meetings. Once when Han-sook thought I was attending to something away from my quarters, I snuck away to the Hyangwonjeong island pavilion to watch the koi fish as they swam among the lily pads. After a short while, Han-sook came runn
ing across the walkway followed by a servant and guard. My lady’s maid was in tears when she came to me. “Majesty!” she cried. “We have been searching for you. Please, you must go back to your bedchamber and rest!”

  I smiled at Han-sook. Though she fussed over me too much, I was glad she was by my side. She had become my confidant and friend—at least as much of a friend as a queen could have.

  And now she stood in front of me at the pavilion wringing her hands, trying her best to take care of me. “Yes, Han-sook,” I said. “I am a little tired.” I let Han-sook lead me across the walkway over the pond and back to my quarters. The servant and guard followed close behind us. When we got to my bedchamber, Han-sook put me in my bed and called for the doctor. The doctor came and examined me as he had done nearly every week before. He admonished me for leaving my quarters. “The cold air is not good for the baby, Majesty,” he declared. After he left, I fell asleep with Han-sook at the side of my bed watching over me.

  Later in my pregnancy, I had trouble sleeping at night. It was the combination of having a sore back and heartburn, and the country’s problems running through my head. Some nights, I would only get a few hours of sleep. I had always been able to get by with little sleep, so it didn’t bother me. In fact, other than the heartburn that was sometimes so bad it sent spikes of pain from my stomach to my chin, I enjoyed being in the quiet of my quarters, alone. I would often crawl out of bed and go to my study to read. On warm nights, I would go out to my courtyard and gaze at the moon, wondering if it was really as far away as the astronomers said it was. Sometimes, I took short strolls across the palace grounds, though it worried Han-sook terribly when I did.

  Late one night I sat in my courtyard watching a half-moon do a dance with the night clouds when a shadow moved at the end of the courtyard. Since I had lived in the palace, I’d always had guards close by, so I always felt safe. But lately I had been creating a stir by challenging the Taewŏn-gun, and I wondered just how safe I was.