Green Phoenix

by Poon, Alice;

  Once inside the main hall, which was overflowing with wedding guests, she was ushered over to perform tea offerings, first to Nurhaci and Lady Abahai, then to Hong Taiji and Jere, and then to all the Beiles and Princesses in the royal family. With each tea offering, she had to kneel and bow three times to the recipient. By the time it was all done, her head was spinning and her knees ached terribly. She felt relieved, though, that Dorgon had not bothered to show up.

  After the tea ritual, wedding guests were seated and served a sumptuous feast of roasted mutton, roasted piglets, stuffed geese and ducks, and all kinds of dumplings, sweet pastries and sweet soups. When the third course was served, at the head maid’s prompting, Bumbutai rose with her new groom to do the rounds of wine toasting to the guests. Then followed a variety of ceremonial entertainments, which began with ribbon dancing and ended with a martial arts performance.

  When the feast was near its end, the head maid scurried across the hall to fetch Bumbutai and grabbed her already-bruised arm so hard that it almost made her cry. Once outside, she pushed and shoved her into the bridal sedan that was waiting to take her back to the Library Hall. She was to wait in her bed chamber for her groom. Hong Taiji, who preferred to keep his emotional distance, never allowed his wife or any of his concubines to share his own bed, even on wedding nights. Sumalagu had earlier brought from the royal kitchen a few dishes of Manchu Sanzi cakes, linden leaf cakes and candied fritters and left them on the side table for her, but she had no appetite for them.

  Alone at last, she began to ponder Dorgon’s words. What did he mean by heartbroken? Why would he feel heartbroken if he had not even bothered to reply to her letter? Yet, for all her heartache, she never stopped pining for him. His appearance that morning rekindled a spark of life in her heart.

  Now another appalling dark thought emerged. Her mother’s words haunted her: “Whatever your groom does to you on the wedding night, you have to submit, even if he hurts you. A woman always endures the act in silence.” She also remembered her sister’s warning. “You will feel sharp pains if the man is aggressive in his ways. Your girlhood will be savagely ripped away. But it will be over in no time. From that instant on, your body belongs solely to the groom. You will be just one of his many woman slaves. He will expect to see blood as proof of your virginity, which was a part of the arrangement when the marriage negotiations took place.” On that thought, she cringed uncontrollably.

  Heavy footsteps could be heard drawing near. The erratic thump of her heart almost deafened her. She did not know where to lay her eyes and unknowingly rested them on her coronet, which she had earlier placed on the chair beside the freshly-made bridal bed. Debating whether or not to put it back on her head, she recalled what Siu Mui had told her that morning. The blue inlays were made of feathers plucked from captured kingfishers. The poor beautiful birds! That mere idea was revolting to her. “I’m never going to wear it again,” she thought. “I don’t care if I’m breaking the custom.” She bit her lip rebelliously. Seated on the edge of the bed in her flimsy shift and underpants, she simply could not stop her knees from knocking together.

  Before she knew it, the bed chamber doors swung open with a bang and in barged the massive hulk of her new husband. He was visibly steady in his gait and did not show any sign of drunkenness. As he approached the bed, he threw his fur-lined surcoat on the floor, leaving on only his yellow hemp robe. Then he plumped himself down beside his new bride and looked steadily into her eyes. He stretched out his large warm hands to cup her tiny cold ones as if he wanted to pass on his body heat to her. Her eyes had nowhere to wander and she had no choice but to gaze into his. She was baffled to find they had a strange coercing charm. He held her hands until her body stopped shaking and said in as gentle a voice as he could manage:

  “My sweet Bumbutai, you must be feeling homesick these past days. I know that feeling. How would you like some distraction? How about taking lessons in Chinese literature and history together with me?” His tone was wheedling, like a parent to a child.

  “I’m going to ask Scholar Fan to give us lessons each morning in the study hall. You will have your afternoons free to go riding with Jirgal in the nearby woods, read to your heart’s content, practice calligraphy or learn Chinese ribbon dancing. What do you say to that?”

  She could not believe her ears. From gossip she had heard, this man was in the habit of ordering the execution of a soldier for breaking the slightest military rule. Could it be true that he was actually trying to please her, a new concubine? He had had concubines before whom he treated with his notorious ill temper. It was true, though, that he still showed some respect for Jere, his Number One Wife after his first wife died. But that was probably an exception. For a moment, she was at a loss as to how to respond to this unexpected kindness. After an awkward pause, she stammered:

  “My Lord, you are very kind… and thoughtful. I would love to... take lessons with you.” Then, venturing further like a child who gets its way with its first cajoling attempt, she asked, “Will I really be free to do all the things you said?”

  “I give you my word. You were born a free spirit. I must see to it that nothing wears that spirit down. If you are happy, I am happy.”

  “I am most grateful to you, My Lord. There is actually another favor that I would like to ask of you. The everyday headdress and high heels... these are not suitable for horse-riding. Could I please be exempted from wearing them while outdoors?”

  “Of course, my sweet girl. You don’t have to wear anything that you don’t like. Just keep your plaits and wear whatever clothes that you wish, even Han dresses. I’ll have the most beautiful silk and satin sent to you and you can pick your favorite colors. Then Sumalagu can make new dresses for you. Only promise me that you’ll show me how you look in the new dresses once they’re made.” His eyes scanned her thinly-clad body and he seemed affected by her bony form.

  After a moment’s silence, he stretched himself, yawned and rose to leave. He bent his thick-set body to pick up his surcoat and put it back on, saying, as if to himself:

  “Tonight is our wedding night. I will sleep in the antechamber instead of going back to my Palace, just to avoid gossip. You can keep your bed chamber doors latched if you like. And I won’t be coming to you at night again. I trust I will see you in class tomorrow. And… you need to eat more.”

  Bumbutai was left entirely lost for words. She could not believe that she had actually escaped her ghastly fate. To be sure, she was not just dreaming, she pinched her unbruised arm several times. Satisfied at last, she murmured repeated thanks to Eternal Blue Sky.

  While in the antechamber where Sumalagu was setting up a bed for him, Hong Taiji said to the maid with feigned menace: “If you ever let Dorgon anywhere near Bumbutai again, I’ll have you flogged.” Then he softened his tone and added: “But you did well with that letter. I’m grateful to you.”

  Sumalagu did not feel the least bit intimidated by this man, knowing he had a soft spot for her.

  “My Lord, it was my oversight this morning. It will not happen again. I hope you will keep your word and treat my mistress well.”

  Two

  Above the boundless steppes that straddled the unforgiving Gobi, the sky habitually sported an unremitting blue. Every now and then coltish white clouds and playful black hawks would break in to tease the resolute blue. This was the ancestral home of the nomadic Mongols. As Mongolian folklore went, once upon a time by the shores of a placid lake on the crest of Burkhan Khaldun (the mountain that Genghis Khan ordained as sacred), Blue Grey Wolf had mated with Beautiful Red Doe. The first child in Mongolian history was then born. Their divine protectors, Eternal Blue Sky and Mother Earth, have ever since been singing their sweet lullaby to soothe and revitalize the roaming Mongol descendants. All Mongols have since been worshipping the spirit of freedom in their souls. These were the lands that cradled a Borjigit daughter who was destined to steer three p
eoples to safe shores.

  On the rolling steppe south of the Gobi, burly grey winter had just stepped over the threshold, all set to stay well past his welcome as always. Coming from a distance, a burst of laughter like jingling silver bells rang through the snow-carpeted lakeside marshland. The lake within sight was a dormant sheet of cobalt ice, reflecting a pale blue sky decorated with wisps of cottony clouds. Echoes of the laughter, as soft as snowflakes, fell weightless on the sleepy marshland and melted away. Dreamy silence lingered as though not a wisp of air had disturbed it.

  A little while later, silence gave way as the rhythmic clacking of two horses’ hooves on the frosted earth drew near, accompanied by a sweet melodic song. The intruding sounds of humanity startled the resident marmots out of their cozy burrows, and stirred into vigilance their few visiting friends: two bushy-tailed sables, a furry beaver and two slender gazelles, gathered around the lake to rest from the morning’s labor of pre-hibernation food hunting. The song’s lyrics were in Mongolian and could be clearly heard as the horses came closer at a canter:

  We make our fair-faced daughters

  Sit in the two-wheeled cart,

  Harnessed to a black camel,

  For you who will become Khans,

  And send them off at a trot,

  On the throne of queens;

  We make them sit together with you.

  Astride on a white Mongolian mare sat a spirited young girl, riding alongside a strong young man atop a dark brown stallion. The man’s leathery attire was that of a Mongolian warrior. The young girl was clad in a purple felt tunic with same color leggings, topped by a luxuriously brocaded black-and-purple fur-trimmed deel, and shod in a pair of knee-high soft leather boots. Her silken black hair was dressed into two braids. Round the crown of her head she wore a multi-colored woven band from which red bead strands hung down the two sides of her face and the back of her head. From the richness of the material of her deel, one could tell that she must either be a beki from an aristocratic Mongol clan or a princess of royal Jurchen descent. Wisps of her shiny black hair whipped about her white face as the blustery winter gusts threw their weight around. Her defiant cheeks, lit up by a pair of sparkling elongated eyes (which the Hans would call “phoenix eyes”), were of a luminous rosy pink. Though reddened by the harsh cold, her delicate straight nose looked pretty, and her sensual pink lips and slim oval face would have made one mistake her for a Han maiden from Suzhou or Hangzhou.

  Then her face suddenly froze into alertness as the canter slowed down to a trot. Her dark eyes radiated a sharp gleam of excitement. Spotting a lonesome grey wolf cub on the edge of the frozen lake, she winked at her brother and silently drew an arrow from the leather quiver strapped across her shoulder. She took aim with her gilded bow while her brother looked on, slightly amused. Svelt as she was, she had a steady and firm grasp on the bow. Her upright poise on the saddle looked elegant with a hint of boyishness. It appeared as if she had had much training in archery and horseback riding skills.

  At this moment she was so absorbed with the cub that she hardly noticed the two horseback hunters who had arrived on the scene. They were quietly watching her from beside a denuded thorn bush about twenty yards away to her left. The two men were in plush Jurchen garb and wore fur-trimmed woolen hats. The young warrior, his eyes fixed on his sister, did not seem the least perturbed by their presence.

  Motioning her white horse with a light pat to move a few steps towards the lake, she carefully took aim again from the new position. Her confident face said that she could hit the target in one single shot. The solitary wolf cub was apparently ignorant of the impending danger. Then it turned its head around at the critical moment to stare the girl in the eyes, and the cub’s wide-eyed watery gaze caught her unguarded and stopped her action in its tracks. Its beautiful, mesmerizing eyes made her exclaim in silence. Probably its mother was desperately looking for it now. On that surmise, her taut arms relaxed and she lowered the bow, letting it rest on her lap. With a slightly wistful look she turned towards her brother, Wukeshan, and said:

  “Eternal Blue Sky is merciful and does not wish me to end his life. I hope he’ll find a beautiful mate one day. I do believe humans should respect animals’ right to live.”

  “My dear sister, it seems to me you are just not cut out for hunting. But as your coach, I’ll say you’re one exceptionally good archer.”

  “How else can we prove we’re the worthy descendants of Khasar’s?” she said with a proud tilt of her head, sending her bead strands into a lively bounce.

  “Haha, I can’t argue with that. But your natural flair clearly lies in languages.”

  “It’s sweet of you to say that, my good brother. You’re right though, hunting is not for me.” She nodded in agreement. “The reason I took up the sport was because I wanted to show everybody that girls can excel in archery like boys, not because I had any taste for hunting. I would much prefer reading and writing any time. But….” turning to her mare, she whispered into its ear: “we still love gallivanting around looking for lavender lilies, don’t we now, my precious Jirgal?” She rubbed her hand on the mare’s neck and gave it a loving pat. The meek beast responded with an affectionate grunt.

  As soon as she had put the arrow back in the quiver, she heard a loud booing followed by raucous laughter from the direction of the thorn bush. This irritated her so much that she would have shouted back a riposte had Wukeshan not put his hand up in time to stop her.

  “My dear Bumbutai, they are the Jurchen Beiles from the royal family of Nurhaci,” he confided to her. “The older one is Hong Taiji, the husband of our Aunt Jere. The younger one is his half-brother Dorgon. When Aunt Jere married ten years ago, you were only one year old, so you didn’t have a chance to meet our in-laws at the wedding. They have come with Aunt Jere on a family visit. I would advise you to behave properly towards them, little sister.”

  “It is they who did not behave well. They were rude to jeer at me,” retorted Bumbutai, her face blushing into a deep pink.

  “I’m sure they didn’t mean anything ill, Sister. Be a good girl now, let’s go and greet them,” coaxed Wukeshan, who doted on his young sister.

  At the introduction, it was young Dorgon who spoke first.

  “You must be Wukeshan,” he said with breathless excitement. “I’m delighted to meet you. Jere has often talked about you and it seems as if I’ve known you for a long time.” He turned to Bumbutai and smiled, fixing his melting glance on her. “And this beautiful young girl here must be Bumbutai. Very pleased to meet you. This is my older brother, Hong Taiji. Jere has gone on ahead in a carriage as she couldn’t wait to meet with her father and brother.”

  When Bumbutai’s eyes met those of Dorgon’s, a rattling thrill grabbed her from head to toe. Never in her life had she met any boy as good-looking and as well-built as this new-found distant relative. He had a high forehead, thick bushy brows over impenetrably dark eyes that exuded sincere warmth, an uncompromising angular jaw line and a cool aquiline nose. With an erect and muscular body, he had the physique of a superbly-trained warrior. Noticing a fresh red scar just above his left brow, she imagined admiringly how he must have fought valiantly in some recent battle. His smooth skin indicated that he was in his early teens, probably a year or two older than she.

  Flustered by his animated gaze, she was not her usual talkative self and could only cast down her eyes in a blush. After an awkward silence which lasted as if for a lifetime, she finally collected herself and addressed the two Beiles politely in Jurchen language, which she had learned from her maid-in-waiting and intimate friend, Sumalagu.

  “It is with great pleasure that we welcome you to our land. My brother Wukeshan was just telling me about your visit. We are honored to have you. Please let us guide you to our humble abode, where we can serve you warm mare’s milk and hot meat stew.”

  Bumbutai dutifully performed what Mongolian eti
quette required of females, but her lingering blush didn’t escape Wukeshan’s eyes. He sighed and went up to converse with Hong Taiji. Bumbutai stole a furtive glance his way and noticed his big moustache and swarthy face, which made her feel strangely uneasy. In no time, though, her playful nature took over and she challenged the lad to a horseback race around the frozen lake.

  Dorgon accepted the challenge with an amiable chortle. His chestnut-colored stallion had never lost a race. For this competition, though, he pulled back his reins on purpose to let the girl lead. Jirgal did the best she could but her rival never lagged behind by more than half a length. At the finishing line, where Dorgon’s stallion was just a horse’s head behind, he clapped his hands ecstatically along with the spectators. She appreciated his gesture and responded with a smile and a sweet toss of her head, tinged with feigned reproach.

  The two hosts and their two guests then rode along at a slow trot towards the Borjigit family compound, which nestled in a nearby sheltered valley through which a half-frozen river coursed, feeding into the lake. On the way, they passed by villages made up of clusters of gers and of tracts along the flat banks of the river teeming with horses, oxen, sheep, deer and camels.

  On one of the larger expanses, two young boys, seven or eight years old, were practicing shooting at moving targets with arrows from atop racing horses. Nearby, a bunch of smaller kids were jumping on and off their young horses and cavorting with each other in a chatter of sunny ebullience. Bumbutai was heartily affected by the romp and beamed her young companion a knowing smile that said: no doubt you’re itching to join the fun. He seemed to get her silent message and acknowledged it with a nod and a big grin. They both knew that now was not the occasion to behave with childish indiscretion.