by E. W. Clarke
Then, buried within the third scroll, she did it. She wrote in provisions that the emperor didn’t specifically ask for. Swan included a test for poetry, a test she knew she could judge, let alone pass. And passing the test would earn any slave his or her freedom.
Swan ended with a statement Emperor Wu had made about the care China has for its people. As she finished, morning light was beginning to shine into the library. The prince was long gone.
After the ink dried, Swan brought the three scrolls to Emperor Wu. The emperor was pleased, telling Swan it was like a dream had come true. She kissed the girl’s forehead, leaving a waxy smudge there from her wide lips.
“I’ll read this in my study. Thank you, Swan.”
“I was hoping you’d read it now,” Swan said, risking the ire of the emperor. She smiled widely, beaming through her exhaustion. She was terrified that the emperor would be angry with Swan’s addition, but decided she would rather know for sure than have to wonder.
“You’re excited!” Emperor Wu said, smiling faintly to herself. “All right, then.”
The emperor read the opening silently, and then stood to read it aloud. “Beautiful, Swan.”
The emperor paced the room, reading the rest of the first scroll to herself.
“You’ve done it!” Wu cackled, and Swan held her fists hard to her chest. She doubted the emperor would respond quite so favorably to the buried passage.
“Is it all this musical? Your grandfather would be proud.” Emperor Wu sat again and started reading the second scroll. She smiled several times, lingering on every word. She seemed to forget Swan was sitting there, and finished reading the second scroll with a pleasant look on her face.
Emperor Wu read through the third scroll more quickly. As Swan had intended, this scroll was more boring, dealing with the particulars of the test. Swan hoped the emperor would skip ahead to the end for the final flourish.
“It’s all in here?” Emperor Wu asked Swan when she got to the boring part. “Exactly as I said?”
Swan nodded. She looked Emperor Wu in the eyes and made herself believe she was telling the truth.
Then the emperor stood again. She turned her back to Swan as she read on. Swan could no longer see Wu’s face and feared she might be caught at any second, but then the emperor laughed, evidently enjoying the way Swan ended the edict. She rolled the three long scrolls up tightly, and then turned back toward Swan with a sad-looking smile.
Emperor Wu embraced Swan with tears in her eyes, and then left the room without saying another word.
The emperor wanted to announce the new law immediately. The whole palace could sense something important was about to take place, and gathered as requested to hear their ruler speak.
Swan was given a gown to wear with black and gold silk lines, like light falling through bamboo. She changed into her dress, wondering how soon she might take her own test and be free.
As she left her bedroom, Swan was grabbed by a pair of guards. They wouldn’t tell her where they were taking her.
Emperor Wu read her edict aloud to a large audience at the gate of the palace, soaking in the admiration of all those gathered there. No one suspected that the emperor’s secretary, the secret author of the law, had been seized by Wu’s men for punishment.
Swan’s face was tattooed. Her forehead burned where the mark was left, but she did not make a sound. She only thought of the word criminal and imagined what it would look like emblazoned forever on her pale face.
Emperor Wu was cruel indeed.
The next morning, after Swan had slept for a long time, she woke ready to change the linen gauze. When she did, she washed the wound and saw her tattoo for the first time. It wasn’t the word criminal, or any word at all. It was a beautiful plum blossom, just as Swan had described in her poem at the lake.
It was a strange punishment, but Swan understood. Emperor Wu wanted to scare her, wanted her to know that she had read every word that Swan had written — and that Swan was no longer trustworthy. And yet, Wu hadn’t marked her with a cruel word. It was the old woman’s way of showing mercy for once in her life, to someone she had cared about.
Time passed. Swan’s wound healed. But she was left in a kind of purgatory. Emperor Wu no longer called upon her services. But neither would the emperor allow Swan to take the test. Swan felt like a slave without a master, a tool without a purpose. She began helping the other slaves with their duties again, for lack of other work. She even taught a few of them how to read.
When she next saw the prince, it was not in the library, and he was not dressed like a thief. He stood before her in the throne room, dressed like a king.
“I heard a rumor that you have yet to take that poetry test you and I once discussed.”
Swan bowed her head. “You heard correctly,” she said.
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’ve been hiding in your room too long. You’ve missed so much,” he told her. She looked at his handsome face and wondered what he thought of her own. If he were surprised by what Wu had done, he didn’t show it. “You’re already free,” he told her. “Wu has been overthrown. I’m the emperor now.”
Swan was nearly overwhelmed by emotion. She had waited her whole life to hear those words. Empress Wu no longer had control over her. She had forever left a mark on Swan, but the young woman didn’t care. She was finally free.
“Now that you’re free,” he said, “I hope that I might employ you.”
Swan smiled at the new emperor. “I will write whatever you ask me to,” she told him.
“Thank you,” he said. “Because there are a lot of new laws I’d like you to write. And poetry competitions I’d like you to judge. But most important, I want to tell you about a group of scholars you might have an interest in joining.”
“I’d like that,” Swan said. “But first, I think I would like to write a poem, just for me.”
With Emperor Wu removed from power, Swan remained at the palace — and she remained involved in Chinese politics as well. She was determined to prove that a woman could wield influence without resorting to cruelty or fearsomeness. And for the rest of her life, whenever anyone called Wu a witch, Swan spoke up in the woman’s defense.
But Swan is best remembered for her poetry, much of which survives to this day. She inspired generations of writers and artists — and proved, like Wu herself, that those from humble beginnings could achieve greatness.
— Arin
The author gratefully acknowledges Billy Merrell.
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e-ISBN 978-0-545-52269-4
First edition, December 2013
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