As Han-sook helped me into bed, I said, “Give me some time to sleep, but not long. I must get to work.”
“You will have plenty of time to do your work, Majesty,” Han-sook said gently. She smiled at me and left. As I lay on the bed, I could feel the place where my dead child rested against my chest for those five precious days. I tingled where his lips suckled my breast. I squeezed my eyes closed, and with effort, I pushed him away and collapsed into a deep sleep.
When I awoke, the sun outside the courtyard was at its early-morning angle. I had slept nearly an entire day. When I got out of bed, I felt better. I was hungry. I thought about scolding Han-sook for letting me sleep so long, but I realized she was doing what she thought was best for me.
“Han-sook!” I called.
My lady’s maid came running into my bedchamber wringing her hands. “Majesty,” she said, “are you all right?”
“You let me sleep too long,” I said. “But I think it is good that you did.” Han-sook lowered her head and smiled.
I went to the anteroom as Han-sook followed. There, they had set up my desk and bat chest. On the wall behind the desk hung the tapestry with the two-headed dragon. I remembered how the dragon had glared at me in the middle of the night, demanding that I listen to it. I remembered how I thought its tongues moved. I remembered the voices crying, “One Korea.”
“Han-sook,” I said, “I ordered you to burn that tapestry.”
Han-sook said, “I’m sorry, Majesty. I did not hear your command. Shall I have it burned now?”
I looked at the dragon. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it now. I didn’t know if the thing was my tormentor or my guide. Perhaps it was both. I sensed that if I’d had the tapestry destroyed, it would have haunted me for the rest of my life.
I didn’t answer Han-sook. I went to my desk and sat on the cushion. There in that small, musty room, with a full day’s rest, the spirit of my dead son did not haunt me. But I was weak and my head wasn’t clear. I needed to do something to get my mind straight. So I ordered Han-sook to get my books for me.
I spent the next several months in my study in Deoksu reading, trying to forget that I had failed to give my husband a son and my country a prince. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not forget my son. He was always with me, and after a while, I realized he always would be. I sat under the two-headed dragon trying not to let it drive me crazy like the spirits had done to my mother. Each time I looked at it, I wondered why it hadn’t helped me bear a healthy prince. I went to bed each night afraid that the two-headed dragon would wake me and torment me as it had done before, but it never did.
During those months, I didn’t ask what happened at Gyeongbok Palace. I assumed they did not miss me and, in fact, were glad that I had decided to live in self-imposed exile in Deoksu. One day news came that the king’s concubine, Gwi-in, was pregnant and that if she had a son, the Taewŏn-gun would make him the crown prince and elevate Gwi-in, a daughter of the Yi clan, to princess consort. This news threw me back into depression. I didn’t feel like reading anymore. I ate less and slept long hours. I lay in bed and pictured the statuesque Gwi-in with her belly growing large and her delivering a healthy son. I pictured Gojong, my husband, beaming with pride that he had finally produced a proper heir to the throne. I hated the pretty concubine and the healthy baby growing inside her.
One fall afternoon I put on a robe and went out to the courtyard. The courtyard was small and quaint with only a few pots and statues here and there. It reminded me of the courtyard at the House of Gamgodang. At one end, Han-sook had placed an orchid in the sunlight that was now in bloom. By chance, it was the same as my mother’s favorite—cream-colored with a blue and pink center and a long yellow pistil. I went to it and smelled it. Its perfume filled my senses, and for a moment, it brought me home to my mother’s garden. I pictured her before she got sick, gently pinching off the orchids’ spent blossoms, singing softly to herself. My parents were older—nearly thirty years—when I was born. They had been married over thirteen years before I arrived. Thirteen years without a child. I had never thought about that before. But it must have been true that they, like me, had tried for years to have a baby. Perhaps my mother had lost a child, just as I had. Perhaps she had lost more than one.
As I smelled the flower and admired its soft white petals and bright-yellow pistil, I realized that I could not let the death of my son destroy me. Yes, I had lost a child, my son. He would always have a place in my heart, and it would take effort to leave him behind, but I couldn’t stay in the dark forever. Perhaps it was what the two-headed dragon had tried to tell me that night in my bedchamber. I had a responsibility to my country. I was the queen and I must be the queen.
I called for Han-sook. She came into the courtyard and said, “Yes, Majesty?”
“Have the servants draw a bath and fetch my day-robe,” I said. “Get me something to eat, too.”
“Yes, my lady,” Han-sook said, and she scurried off.
A few hours later, I had bathed and my maids had braided my hair and helped me into my day-robe. Servants had brought barley tea, rice and bulgogi, kimchi, and sweet dduk. I was surprised at how good it all tasted and ate everything they brought. Han-sook ordered the servants to fetch more, but I told her I’d had enough.
Over the next several days and weeks, I grew stronger. I ate and slept well. I tended to the orchids in my courtyard. I read books in the morning and took strolls in the afternoon. I thought about my years as queen. I thought about my decision to be a dragon queen. I thought of my dead son. I thought of the sons and daughters I would still have someday. I wanted them to have a strong mother. I remembered my lost uncle. I had promised my aunt I would find him, yet I still did not know where he was. And I thought of Korea. Its king was weak, and the Taewŏn-gun was interested only in staying in power—so much so that he was willing to align with the Japanese barbarians. My children—dead and unborn—needed me to be a dragon queen. And so did my husband and my country.
One fall morning when the wind promised change, I went to my study and called for Han-sook. “Fetch Kyung-jik and come back here,” I commanded. “We have important matters to attend to.”
“Yes, Majesty,” she said, and hurried to find Kyung-jik.
A few minutes later, Kyung-jik and Han-sook stood before me as I sat at my desk. I had opened the wall to the central courtyard to let the cool fall air sweep away the staleness inside the room. It was a bright day, and the fresh air smelled sweet and clean. My sergeant of the guard looked handsome and strong in his uniform. My lady’s maid, dressed in her hanbok, looked mature and composed. They had been loyal and true over the years, and I prayed that I could trust them now. With what I planned to do, if they proved to be disloyal, it would cost me my life.
“Sit,” I said, “and listen to me well.” They both sat on cushions in front of my desk. “I believe the palace wants to take my crown, but I will not let them. I have lived here in exile long enough. It is time for me to take my rightful place again on the throne.”
“Yes, Majesty,” they both said in unison.
I continued. “I want the palace to think I’ll be content to stay here, so be careful what you say. There will be spies at every station.”
“Yes, Majesty,” they both said again.
“Kyung-jik, I want ten of your best men whom you can trust. Train them well and put them at the gate and around my quarters. They must be on guard every hour of the day. Then get word to your uncle, Minister Kim. Have him arrange a meeting with me and the leaders of the clans. It must be held in secret, somewhere away from here.”
“Yes, Majesty,” he said.
“Han-sook,” I said, addressing my lady’s maid directly, “send someone to the House of Gamgodang to bring my aunt; her lady’s maid, Eun-ji; and my uncle’s valet, Mr. Yang, here to live at Deoksu. I fear for their safety. Then arrange a meeting with the king. Away from here, at the royal tombs at Donggureung. Tell him he should come without Lady Min or the Ta
ewŏn-gun. Tell him I want to talk to him about our dead son.”
“Yes, Majesty,” she said.
I stood from my desk and looked out on the palace grounds. “Finally,” I said, “as of this moment, no one is to mention my son to me. Ever. If they do, I will banish them to the streets. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Majesty,” they said.
I turned to them. “It is important that you do your jobs well, and be on high alert. We are all in danger,” I said. I gave them both a serious look. Then I said, “I plan to impeach the Taewŏn-gun and take over the government.”
NINETEEN
It was a long journey from Deoksu Palace to the royal tombs at Donggureung, and even longer from Gyeongbok. I chose it in part for that reason, thinking that if Gojong agreed to meet me there, he would bring a small entourage and no one important from the palace. I also chose it because it was the final resting place of King Taejo, the first king of the Chosŏn Dynasty.
I wasn’t sure my husband would accept my invitation. A long trip would take him away from the palace for an entire day, and he disliked leaving the comfort of his lavish quarters in Gyeongbok. I hadn’t seen him since before our son was born, and I wasn’t sure how he felt about me after I had failed to give him a healthy son. But though we were not close as husband and wife, we had shared something over the previous few years—a passion and a connection. I hoped that our shared frustrations would bring us together at Donggureung.
So when the king’s courier delivered the message saying my husband would meet me, I was relieved. I truly wanted to talk to my husband about our son. And without the king, I would never be able to challenge the Taewŏn-gun. Then they would toss me aside and I would live in exile, not a dragon queen, not even a stone queen. I wouldn’t be a queen at all.
On the day I was to meet the king, my eunuchs carried my palanquin nearly all morning on the journey to Donggureung. The tombs were deep in the hills east of Seoul. It was a lovely day, not hot or humid. Lazy white clouds drifted across the sky above grass-roofed country houses. In the distance, farmers harvested grains as their livestock grazed on the season’s last greens.
I could tell my porters were tired when we got to the tombs. They jostled and tipped my palanquin more than they should have. I had them lower my palanquin at the simple wooden gate. The head porter lifted the curtain and I stepped out. All around, the forested hills were beginning to turn to their fall colors. Through the gate, a stone path led to a small, single-roof temple with red beams and a tile roof. Beyond the temple, a hill led to nine neung tombs for past kings and queens. Covered in closely trimmed grass, the tomb-mounds were ten feet high and surrounded by stone statues of guards and animals. Squat balustrades circled some of the tombs.
With Kyung-jik and two of his men behind me, I walked through the gate, past the temple and up the hill. I went to the tomb of Taejo. I had been here years earlier with Gojong, Lady Min, and the Taewŏn-gun, and I felt the ancient king’s spirit then. Now, as I beheld the grand tomb of Chosŏn’s first king, with its stone statues, columns, and totems, the spirit was strong in me again. I tried to hear what it was saying, but I could not.
I looked back down the hill and saw the king’s entourage slowly making its way along the road to the tombs. His entourage was smaller than usual. Nevertheless, it was impressive. At the lead was a horseman carrying the king’s pennant. Twelve skilled eunuchs carried his palanquin, and a dozen guards rode in dazzling raiment, many on stately Datong horses. A cart filled with provisions and pulled by two draft horses followed behind. I was relieved to see that the Taewŏn-gun’s palanquin was not part of the procession.
The king’s retinue stopped at the gate, and the porters skillfully lowered his palanquin to the ground. The king stepped out. He wore a loose white robe over his short frame and a squat black hat on his head. He looked around and spotted me. As he made his way up the hill followed by two guards, the rest of his entourage began unpacking the cart and setting up a small tent and picnic for us.
Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead when my husband reached me in front of King Taejo’s tomb. He took out a kerchief and wiped away the sweat. I bowed lower than usual. “My king,” I said, “it is good to see you.”
As I stood in front of him, I couldn’t tell if he felt the same about seeing me. He looked tired, more than he should have from a three-hour junket. He looked sad, too. His skin was pale, and there were deep circles around his eyes. His goatee was now full like a man’s, but it was messy and untrimmed.
“Leave us,” I said to the guards. Kyung-jik and his men left at once, but the king’s guards stayed. He looked at his men and waved his hand. They turned and followed Kyung-jik down the hill.
“I was told you were sick,” he said.
I nodded. “Yes, it is true. I was in despair about our son.”
“Yes, well,” Gojong said, and looked away. In his face, I saw that our son’s death hurt him, too. I hadn’t thought that it would. But of course, it made sense. The sickly child we had conceived reinforced the image that he was weak and unfit to rule the country.
I lowered my head. “I am sorry I did not make a proper son for you. It broke my heart that he was born that way. I was not a good wife.”
Gojong continued to look away. “Gwi-in is due to give birth any day now. My father says if it is a son, it will be the wonja, the king’s first son. Then my father will proclaim him to be the crown prince and Gwi-in princess consort. She will make a good princess consort.” He turned and lifted his chin at me.
Anger swelled inside me. If I didn’t act quickly, if I couldn’t convince my husband to stay with me, the Taewŏn-gun would banish me from the palace or perhaps have me killed. And just like Gojong, I, too, wanted to prove that I was worthy of the crown they had placed on my head. If they banished me from the palace, I would never have that chance.
I pushed my anger aside and said, “Will you walk with me?”
Gojong nodded, and we began to stroll along King Taejo’s tomb. “Thank you for coming here to meet me,” I said. “I thought this was a fitting place for us to talk. Great kings and queens are buried here. I can feel their spirits. Can you?”
Gojong looked at the mounds and then at me. “These are just stones and hills,” he said. “I don’t know about spirits.”
“They speak to me,” I said, “although I do not understand what they are telling me. I wanted to come here to listen to them. I had hoped that you would hear them, too.”
“Is that what those books teach you? How to speak to ghosts so they can tell you what to do?” The king shook his head. “Maybe I should read them, too.”
We’d come to the end of the tomb and turned the corner. The warm midday sun was on our backs. The spirit of Taejo was whispering in my ear. Now, this close to the great king’s tomb, its voice was clearer. “You are the spirit of One Korea,” I thought I heard it say.
I held my eyes forward as we walked on. I had a determination that I’d never had before. It was as if King Taejo was lifting me up, urging me on. Finally I said, “You and I will make another son. I promise he will be healthy and strong.”
“How could you know?” Gojong asked.
“I think it might be what the spirits are telling me. And when our son is born, he will be the crown prince. You will pronounce him so because you will be the king.”
“What do you mean?” he said. “I’m already the king.”
“Are you? If so, why does your father say who will be the crown prince? Why does he make the decisions for the country while you rot in your quarters with your pipe, wine, and women?”
The king sneered. “If Gwi-in gives me a son, everyone will know that I am the king.”
“Will they?” I said. “Will Gwi-in help you so that you do not have to depend on your father? No. She is your father’s tool to keep you in your place.”
The king stopped walking. I had never before talked to him this way, and he was clearly flustered. “You should not say th
ings like that to me,” he said. “I am your husband and king.”
I turned to him. “Then be my husband and king,” I said. “Change your ways and stand tall. You must take control from your father. You have told me you wanted to do so. Do it now. Do it alongside me.”
Gojong sighed and looked at his feet. In his white robe and short black hat, he looked small and weak, not like a king at all. “I don’t think I can. It is not in me to challenge my father.”
“It is in me,” I said tapping my chest. “I can do it for both of us. If we do not take over, your father will drive me from the palace and will keep you in your quarters, nothing more than a puppet while he plots with the Japanese. Together, we can become the true king and queen and create a strong nation. They gave us our crowns. Now we must take them.”
Gojong lifted his face to me. “I have tried to change my ways,” he said, his eyes pleading with me to understand. “I did for a time when you were pregnant. I thought the prince should have a strong father. But when the baby died . . .” He looked at his feet again.
In his face was the pain of our lost son. I had the same pain during the months I spent in the darkness of my bedchamber at Gyeongbok. I had it still. I touched his arm. “We will make another son. But we can only do it if we are together. I will help you, but you must help me, too.”
My husband shook his head. “I don’t know if I can. I’ve never been able to challenge my father.”
“You don’t have to,” I said. “We will have the clans do it. They will support us in an impeachment of the Taewŏn-gun. Your father’s taxes are crushing them, and they fear the dangerous game he plays with Japan. With their support, we can take over the government. It will be a peaceful transition.”
The Dragon Queen Page 17
