On their left were several lofty temples set among groves of old trees; on their right was a long dim gallery. The floor of the open pavilion on which Lady Piam led them was of marble. The shade from the trees and the coolness of the sala were a relief after the heat through which they had come.
A number of women lounging in and around the pavilion started up to greet Anna’s guide. They seemed to be of superior rank, for she prostrated herself before them. Perhaps they were her sisters, at least several of these held high positions in the harem, Anna had been told. When the formalities were over, they all fell into animated conversation. Children sat or sprawled upon the marble floor. Babies slept or frolicked in the arms of their nurses.
Almost immediately slaves appeared with silver trays. These were covered with scarlet netting stretched over light frames of bamboo, in the shape of beehives. After the beehives were removed, the trays were found to be filled with a variety of foods that were strange but appetizing looking. Anna would have liked to try them, but no forks or spoons were furnished and she could not bring herself to use her fingers as the others did. She and Louis had to content themselves with oranges. She was troubled a little by the fear that her refusal would be considered rude, especially if the food had been prepared in her honor, but no one paid the slightest attention to her. Lady Piam and the women of the harem ate, laughing and chatting without a glance in her direction.
When she and Louis began to peel their oranges the children came close to watch with interest and amusement. They laughed and pointed and talked, though she and Louis could not imagine what was odd about their manner of eating. Later she was to observe that Siamese peeled all fruit with a whittling stroke away from themselves and considered foreigners indescribably foolish for cutting toward their own thumbs. The children were attractive, with parchment skins, liquid brown eyes, and well-formed bodies. But when Anna had finished her orange and held out her hand to them, the smiles disappeared and they drew away.
Soon Lady Talap, who had so charmed Anna at their first meeting, appeared. After saluting the sister of the Kralahome profoundly, and talking with her for a few minutes, she lay down upon the cool stone floor with her gold betel-box as a pillow.
She beckoned to Anna with a swift downward gesture, almost the exact opposite of the English equivalent, and smiled with the sudden sweetness of expression that distinguished her from the other women. Anna got up and went over to her. As she sat down beside the pretty relaxed figure, Lady Talap said in quaint clear English, “I am very glad to see you. It is long time I not see. Why you come so late?” to all of which she apparently expected no reply. Anna addressed her with several simple sentences, but she shook her head laughing. Anna then tried baby talk in an effort to make a few amiable sentiments intelligible to her, but in vain. When she saw that Anna was really disappointed and embarrassed by this failure, Lady Talap smiled again, the same evanescent sweet smile and began to sing:
“There is a happy land,
Far, far away,
Where saints in glory stand,
Bright, bright as day …”
and then said, “I think of you very often. ‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.’”
Anna looked at her in astonishment. If she was trying to display her knowledge of English, the performance was meritorious, but disjointed, to say the least. Louis, lying with his head in Anna’s lap, stared at this strange woman with frank curiosity. Was she speaking English or wasn’t she? A long silence followed, to Anna a trying one. She could not think of any way to show her friendliness, and she wanted to, for she would need to make friends if her work was to be a success. But Lady Talap was lying stretched out, unaware of the torment in Anna’s mind, looking up blankly at the carved and gilded rosettes of the pavilion roof.
After perhaps half an hour Lady Talap rose to her knees and looked cautiously around. Lady Piam had strolled away with her friends and the children were scampering about in the sun. There was no one near and she moved quickly very close to Anna and whispered in her ear: “Dear Mem Mattoon! I love you. I think of you. Your little boy dead—you come Palace—you cry. I love you!” And she moved quickly away again and lay down with her head on her betel-box. She placed her finger on her lips, removed it, and began to sing again in her clear treble:
“There is a happy land
Far, far away, …”
Anna sat silent and alert. The furtiveness of Lady Talap’s act had meant something. Suddenly she understood, and was profoundly touched. How stupid she had been to have supposed that it was a random performance! This childlike woman locked away behind the high walls of the Forbidden City was trying to send a message to the outside world. She wanted to tell Mrs. Mattoon of her sympathy for the other woman’s sorrow in the loss of a child, to express her affection, to let Mrs. Mattoon know that she still remembered what had been taught her. She had devised this unique way of sending love and comfort to the woman she counted friend. How clever! How humane! Anna smiled and nodded her head and Lady Talap smiled back. It was agreed between them. But it meant more than just that to Anna. She was thrilled with the knowledge that Lady Talap had trusted her with the message, evidently sure that she would not disclose it to the King. This was a matter for women, something that women’s hearts understood, and the Siamese woman had trusted the Englishwoman with a message for the American woman. Anna looked at Lady Talap with renewed interest. There she lay, imprisoned by walls and customs, which made her hardly more than the plaything of a king, but for all that she bore the marks of Mrs. Mattoon’s character. Anna fell to dreaming. How many minds enchained by age-old fetters would she set free?
The day wore on to noon, then to afternoon. Some of the women went, others came. The children continued to play. Anna rested against one of the pillars of the pavilion and felt herself to have fallen into an enchanted world out of an old fairy tale. It seemed impossible that only twenty minutes’ walk could bring her to the outside stir and bustle of Bangkok.
She was aroused by a slight noise from the covered gallery. An old woman appeared bearing a candlestick of gold, with branches supporting four lighted candles. The effect was instantaneous and amazing. All the drowsy indolence of the afternoon vanished. Lady Talap started to her feet and fled unceremoniously. The other women and even most of the children followed suit. Anna was left alone with the Kralahome’s sister and her attendants, and Louis, who was sleeping comfortably in his mother’s lap.
It was easy to guess that the King was in some way connected with the candles. But it was not until much later, when she understood the customs of palace life, that she came to understand what the candlestick signified. It was the offering invariably sent by the King to the Chapel Royal of Wat Phra Kaeo as soon as he awakened from his nap; and it meant that his appearance was imminent.
In a very few minutes a straggling procession began to move past—hundreds of women and children, some pale and downcast, others bright and blooming, more moody and hardened, all walking quietly in one direction. None stopped to talk. None loitered or so much as looked back. Lady Talap reappeared among them, dressed now in dark blue silk that contrasted becomingly with the rich olive of her skin. She did not pause to speak, did not even glance at Anna, but hurried after the others with a certain anxious alacrity in her smooth young face. She was the favorite, but others had been so before her.
Anna began to feel uneasy as her ordeal approached. All this hushed and careful bustle set in motion a contagion of fear. She was determined to take up with the King personally the question of a house. He had promised her a brick house in his letter, but as the Kralahome had said on that first never-to-be-forgotten night, “His Majesty cannot remember everything.” Perhaps he needed to be reminded.
She took out the two letters from the King that had come to Singapore, and re-read them. In addition to the letter which had been addressed to her personally, she had a copy of the King’s letter to Mr. W. Tan Kim Ching, which was very specific:
&nb
sp; Bangkok, 26th, Feb. 1862
In regard to the Lady whose name you have said Mrs. Leonowens whom you pleased mostly to have in our employ for being school mistress here I have refused her application on last occasion because she required monthly salary more than how much we thought was proper, and on hearing that she wish to live at Missionary establishment far from this palace her pleasure might cause a trouble to us in conveying her to and fro every day, and her appearance is in pleasure with Missionaries of Christ religion I fear lest she in doing her education may endeavour to convert our Children to Christianity more than education for knowledge of English language and literature like American Missionaries and their wives have done here before then our expense may be considered our countrymen whom English called inhabitant of Benighted land. We need not have teacher of Christianity as they are a bundant here.
But if the Lady Leonowens accept to receive salary for every month but $100 and promise to live in this palace or in vicinity hereof, and that she will do education of language and literature more than endeavour to convert our Children to Christ religion I shall be glad to have her our school Mistress according to your favourable opinion.
I have written to Mr. Wm. Adamson who and whose wife have introduced the application of this Lady to you before, on this subject and have ordered him that the said Lady shall place good arrangement with you before she would come up here. I beg to authorize for doing best arrangement with her who may be not out of my aforesaid rules.
When she would come up here I will give her a brick house in nearest vicinity of this palace where she can live with her husband or manservants freely without rent or lessening payment the monthly salary will be $100 firstly—but afterwards when I observe her labour greater than expected or her scholars will be increased or her scholars may become in facility of language and literature very soon, I will reward her some time more than salary or add her monthly salary according to her labour.
Please state my statement to her, and let her believe me.
The letters were not unfriendly. Why then was she apprehensive? Anna folded them away again and roused Louis. The straggling procession of women and children had stopped. She stood up to await the King’s arrival.
For an hour she stood, expecting him to appear at any moment. The wait was trying, and as time passed her apprehension grew. She found herself steeling her will against the impact of the King’s waspish personality, though she hardly knew why. After all, the agreement was clear. Only details remained to be settled. True, he had won the last engagement, but she had not lost. She had kept her innocent secrets.
Then there was a general frantic rush. Attendants, nurses, slaves vanished through doors, around pillars, under stairways. And at last—preceded by a sharp cough—behold the King himself!
He was not smiling. He approached the little group that waited for him in the pavilion, coughing loudly and, it seemed to Anna, crossly. It was an ominous introduction to the interview. Louis, always sensitive to the moods of those about him, buried his face in the folds of his mother’s dress to escape the notice of this person who announced himself so strangely.
The trail of women and children following the King prostrated themselves as he paused before the Kralahome’s sister. She, too, had dropped to the floor. Only the Englishwoman with her child and the King were left standing.
The King shook hands with Anna coldly, and, looking at Louis whose face was invisible, remarked indifferently, “The child’s hair is beautiful.”
He then turned to the Kralahome’s sister and engaged her in a long conversation. Anna waited, but the King paid no further attention to her. As she waited several of the women inched themselves close to her and hissed something at her. She could not understand them, if they were trying to talk to her, and so remained with her eyes fixed on the King’s face in an effort to catch the drift of the conversation he was carrying on with Lady Piam.
It was not a particularly pleasing face, although the features were regular and the complexion fair. The nose was broad at the base and the eyes narrow and hard. The right half of the face was on a slightly lower plane, and there was a peculiar falling of the under lip on that side, as if the King had once suffered from partial paralysis. But it was a strong face, imperious and shrewd.
Again the hissing of the women interrupted her scrutiny. She looked at them curiously, but their eyes were on the ground as they squatted on their elbows and knees. What could they be trying to say? The whisper came more insistently. Evidently, whatever it was, they considered it important enough to run the risk of a rebuke from their lord. Didn’t they know that she could not understand them?
They said nothing more, but suddenly without warning four of them reached out and took hold of her skirt. Before she could guess what they planned they had pulled together vigorously. The movement was so quick that she lost her balance. Triumphantly they jerked her over backward and she landed full length on the pavement, stunned, Boy beside her. Tears of pain and anger started to her eyes. Furiously, she attempted to struggle to her feet, but they held tight until the King saw her dilemma. He said a few rapid sentences in an insolent tone and Anna was allowed to resume her upright position, rumpled and shaken.
“They not understand European custom,” said the King to the flushed Englishwoman who was trying to smooth her dress and quiet Louis, who had a big bump on his head and was sobbing wildly.
The King spoke to the women and they crawled backward a little and left Anna standing in an open space. Then with a wave of his hand the King went on, “It is our pleasure that you shall reside within this Palace among our family.”
Only half recovered from the shock of the fall, Anna was struck dumb. Live here? How could she live where the sense of tyranny was so strong she could smell it, and the shadow of slavery so deep that even the sunlight was full of gloom? Live where she could find no privacy and no respite from the harem and its life, no freedom to come and go, where every gate was guarded and every movement of those within watched by spies, where she would have no home of her own in which she could bring up Boy in the beloved tradition of English childhood? She closed her trembling lips firmly. Never! She would never consent to live shut away from the help of the British Consul and the American missionaries.
“Your Majesty,” she said with a quietness she did not feel, “it is impossible for me to live here. I shall be happy to work here during the school day, but I need some little home of my own outside the Palace where I can retire when my duties are done. I do not speak the language yet, and I should feel like an unhappy prisoner locked away here when the gates are shut in the evening.”
A sudden suspicion gleamed in the King’s eyes. “Where do you go every evening?” he demanded.
“Not anywhere, Your Majesty,” she replied indignantly. (How dare he?) “I am a stranger here.”
“Then why shall you object to the gates being shut?”
“I do not clearly know,” she answered slowly—with a secret shudder at the idea—“but I am afraid that I could not do it. I beg Your Majesty to remember that in your gracious letter you promised me ‘a brick residence adjoining the Royal Palace,’ not within it.”
He advanced toward her several short steps, his face contorted and purple with sudden rage.
“I do not know I have promised. I do not know former condition. I do not know anything but you are my servant”—the voice was climbing higher and higher toward a shriek—“and it is our pleasure that you must live in this Palace, and YOU SHALL OBEY!” The last three words were screamed in her very face.
She backed off a little, trembling, and for seconds she could find no words to say nor the strength to say them. “If I give up now,” she thought, “I’m lost. I will not live in this Palace! Not if it means going back to Singapore. No! Dear God, help me, I couldn’t do that! But I will not live here, as if I were a member of his horrid harem myself!” She gathered the vestiges of her courage around her and managed to say in a voice so cold and calm that it su
rprised her: “Your Majesty has perhaps forgotten that I am not a servant, but a governess. I am prepared to obey all Your Majesty’s commands within the obligation of my duty to your family, but beyond that I can promise no obedience.”
“You shall live in the Palace,” he roared, “you shall live in the Palace!” Then the roaring stopped. The purple faded from his face. He blinked his eyes rapidly several times and spoke in a moderate tone. “I will give women slaves to wait on you. You shall commence royal school in this pavilion Thursday next. That is the best day for such undertaking in the estimation of our astrologers.”
Anna drew a deep breath. He had begun to bargain. She was having an effect. Slaves! If he knew how she abhorred slavery with every atom of her being, how she would do everything within her power to destroy it, he would not think she could be bought over for a few pitiful human beings. Astrologers! So that was why there had been a delay in starting the school! The astrologers had not found a propitious day. The King turned away as if the matter were settled and began to address commands in a staccato voice to some old women about the pavilion.
Louis, who could contain himself no longer, was crying in loud shaking sobs. The Kralahome’s sister raised her head and threw him several fierce glances. Anna felt tears gathering in her own eyes. After all, who was she, one frail Englishwoman, to pit herself against this relentless despot and his crawling minions? She would not live in the Palace. She had better not stay and burst into undignified tears. That would reveal weakness, and here one could not afford to be weak. She could not wait for the King to terminate the interview! Better rude than weak! Taking Louis by the hand she turned and walked quickly back toward the brass door.
Anna and the King of Siam Page 10
