The Emperor's Prey

by Jeremy Han

  “But he will fall sick if he remains there! You always told me never to stay in the rain? How can you tell me this and let the boy get wet? Ask him to come over now.” The boy pouted and put his hands on his hip. The authority wielded by this little boy seemed ill-fitting but it clearly carried weight. The older man, a mid-ranking eunuch squirmed.

  “Highness, I can’t disobey the head eunuch.”

  “But I can. And I can make you listen to me too. Bring the boy to me now.”

  “Yes Your highness Prince Yunwen.”

  The man opened his umbrella and ran across the courtyard braving the lashing rain. He sheltered the poor boy and said, “Come, His Highness Prince Yunwen commands you to come over.”

  “But…but the head eunuch…eunuch will be angry. He will beat me up.” The teenage boy tried to speak through his shivering lips.

  “Hush boy…the prince has asked for your presence, you will be safe. Come.” Eunuch Wen brought the boy over and the boy kneeled in front of Prince Yunwen.

  “Your Highness.”

  “What is your name?” The young prince stood before him. The two were a marked contrast. Yunwen was dry and his hair nicely done, his clothes beautifully embroidered and tailored. The teenager’s hair was dishevelled, his clothes wet and smelly.

  “Highness, my name is Ma Sanbao.”

  “Sanbao. Three treasures.”

  “Yes Highness.”

  “Sanbao…” The young prince sat down, pondering the name as though it was a profound secret, too lofty for a four year old to comprehend. Then he said, “Eunuch Wen, get him some clothes to change then bring him back to me. Do it before he falls sick.” The young prince said with as much authority a four year old could muster.

  “Yes Highness.”

  Later, Sanbao was dressed neatly again as he stood before the Prince. He felt so much better. The room was warm and he was no longer wet.

  “Sit. Don’t stand there, you look so tall.” The little prince Yunwen commanded.

  “No Highness, I can’t. I’m not worthy to sit with you.”

  “Shut up!” The prince took Sanbao’s hand and led him to a chair.

  “No…Highness No. You can’t touch me!” Anybody who touched the royal family could be put to death.

  “Sit down now. Don’t be afraid Sanbao. I like you. Other eunuchs fawn around me; I don’t like it. They treat me like a child. I want you to stay with me. You will play with me and attend classes here with me. Eunuch Wen can be so boring.”

  From that day onwards, the boy eunuch known as Ma Sanbao became the Pei Tong ‘page boy’ of Prince Zhu Yunwen, the heir to the throne. He followed the prince everywhere he went with his guardian Eunuch Wen, learning and studying with the prince. Frequently, the childish prince would skip his homework and according to tradition, he must be whipped. However, a member of the royal family must not be touched by commoners, much less to be hit, so a whipping boy had to take the place. Ma Sanbao bore the strokes for the prince. Wen would whip him hard and Sanbao would cry, but it increased his determination to succeed. He bore the eunuch and the prince no ill-will because he knew that was just the way it was. Neither of them was cruel toward him. The prince in particular, felt bad and would often make it up by sneaking food from the royal table, sometimes a candy or dessert, or the leg of a roasted chicken or a chunk of stewed beef, something exquisite that made any whipping seemed worthwhile. He knew the boy-prince meant no harm; just the way little children were being lazy and playful sometimes. Their bond grew daily as they studied together, played together and got reprimanded together. He felt like a protective elder brother. While outwardly he displayed the actions of a slave, inwardly he loved the prince. When he was with the prince and Eunuch Wen, he almost forgot his past.

  There was once when the prince fell into a pond while trying to catch fish. He almost drowned but Sanbao rescued him. As he laid gasping for air, eunuchs ran in panic to see if the prince was alright. Being typical servants in a bureaucracy, they saw what happened and were more concerned that rules be followed than making sure lives were saved. They insisted to Wen that Sanbao be flogged for touching the emperor. Wen was put in a spot because by then he loved both boys and he knew that Sanbao did it to save the prince. He was in a quandary when some of the more daring eunuchs dragged Sanbao; intending to bring him before the head eunuch for punishment and thereby demonstrate how diligent they were in keeping the order of the palace. Prince Yunwen, despite his young age, marched to the front of the eunuchs and demanded they release Sanbao. When one of them refused, citing some obscure law, the prince threatened to go to his father and grandfather. “I will tell them you did nothing to save me but tried to cover it up by punishing the boy who did! My grandfather will have your head hanging at the gates before the sunset!” Standing only up to the eunuch’s waist, Prince Yunwen shouted at him and pointed an accusing finger. The man promptly released Sanbao. When Sanbao kneeled before him to thank him, the prince smiled toothily and said childishly, “No problem. We are brothers.”

  His ‘little brother’, the prince Zhu Yunwen, became the Emperor Jian Wen.

  The words ‘We are brothers’ spoken so long ago reverberated in Zheng He’s mind as he contemplated what he needed to do. He was seated at the pavilion where he met Eunuch Wen a couple of months back.

  We are brothers.

  Sanbao, now known as Zheng He, felt a stab in his heart as he tried to imagine how Jian Wen must have felt: alone, lost, defeated. He visualised a young boy smiling at him, giving him a chicken drumstick, memorizing a text, sharing candy with him. After about two years together, Sanbao turned sixteen and was eligible for military service. With his learning under Wen, and a taste of privilege in the palace, Sanbao wanted to make a name. He requested to leave the service of Prince Yunwen and joined the army of Prince Zhu Di, Yunwen’s uncle to fight the Mongols. He promised the boy-prince he would return bigger and stronger to protect him. And Yunwen believed his ‘elder brother’.

  His mind drifted back again to that day he said his farewell to the young prince. He had gone to the prince’s chamber very early and knelt before the boy, bowing low three times to signify respect and gratitude. Each time his forehead touched the cold floor. “Thank you your Highness for being kind to me. Sanbao will forever remember the day you took me out of the freezing rain and made me your page.”

  “I will miss you Sanbao. No one will study with me anymore. And I will have to do my homework now if not Eunuch Wen will have to smack himself.”

  “I will surely return, your Highness. When I am stronger, I will come back to serve you all my life and to protect you.”

  “I will miss you.” The little prince sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

  His ‘older brother’ never came back. Rising up the ranks of Zhu Di’s army until the fateful day eighteen years ago he was deployed to fight against the army of Emperor Jian Wen in Zhu Di’s rebellion. After Jian Wen’s defeat at the hands of his uncle, Sanbao received news that the emperor, his ‘younger brother’ had died. He wept. He felt he had obeyed one master and betrayed another but what could he have done? Still, the newly installed Yong Le emperor promoted him and, Ma Sanbao, re-named Zheng He had become the most powerful man in the eastern seas. But he had never forgotten. He did not forget that he had promised the boy prince one day he would return to protect him. In frustration, he slapped his palm onto the table top. He stood up and faced the ocean, staring at the waves and made an oath. He would honour his promise to the Jian Wen emperor; one made more than thirty years ago. He, Zheng He, Grand Admiral of the Ming would not turn his back on someone who once saved him. Facing the waves and the setting sun, his face tightened with resolve to see this through even though it might cost him his life. But Zheng He was not stupid or ignorant of politics. He would play this game well so that everyone; himself, Wen and most importantly, the Jian Wen emperor would live. He would not let his benefactor down again. Wen was right. To save a life, to do what is morally right is al
ways more important that obeying a monarch, no matter how powerful. What Wen had asked of him was not treason but mercy: and there were no laws against mercy. It was only morally correct to repay the former emperor at his time of need.

  The sound of the rumbling waves brought him back to the present. It broke him from the reverie with the past. For awhile his mind juxtaposed between the past and the present, feeling both sad and nostalgic at how things had turned out. Zheng He’s life had always been tough. Despite his position, he braved the dangers of the sea voyage together with his men. And now he was on land, he would face another kind of danger. He started to walk back to his office. After he sat down, he took out a piece of paper and wrote a simple message on it. Then he handed it over to one of his most trusted aides, and the man sent it to Wen at the capital.

  A few weeks later, Wen was interrupted at work. An aide respectfully approached him, handed him a slip of paper then withdrew. He laid the paper aside and continued to draft a document detailing some improvements to the way the staff of the imperial household should function. When he was sure that no one was around, he put the piece of paper from Zheng He to the candle and torched it. Then he got up and walked to the chamber where palace officials had their meals. He took a left turn, passing two moon gates and a garden before he turned right. He walked along the long red corridor that framed the perimeter of the Forbidden City. Soon, two other officials joined him and they chatted about some mundane matters before he continued to the mess hall. When he reached the place, he got in and sat at the table reserved for senior officials of the staff of the imperial household, ate and drank some tea.

  Wen got up after the tea and left. He told a junior staff that he was unwell; it must be the food and said he would like to rest at his quarters. If there was anything important, send word. Then he returned to the privacy of his room but instead of lying down on his bed, he sat by his desk to plan the next move. Throughout the entire afternoon he looked calm albeit a little pale, but his mind was churning like the sea during a storm as he planned the next move. He must send word to Zhao Qi that the plan must be executed as soon as possible. Besides the note from the grand admiral, he had also received another message. There was nothing casual about his conversation with the civil service officers at the corridor. The Civil Service feared and hated Yong Le. While they could do nothing against his harsh and cruel policies, they did not submit to him completely either. They had their own information networks like vines creeping throughout the entire bureaucracy working for their own purposes, which may or may not coincide with the emperor’s. Moreover, they hated the Eastern Depot, which was used against them from time to time; hence any movement of the feared secret service was closely monitored. This afternoon, they had brought him a word of warning:

  Run. Eastern Depot!

  FIFTEEN

  The old man took the steps slowly, almost meditatively. After all, this was not a place to rush. To do so would dishonour the hallowed souls resting here. The steps were covered in moss, and on both sides of the steps were thick bamboo forests. The autumn wind caused the plants to sway and rustle. Some of the leaves were turning a slight shade of brown but otherwise the bamboo retained its green. Mist settled like a silk curtain. It was all very calming. As he walked up, his head was down, deep in thought. His hands were behind him. As he came closer to the top of the steep walkway, he heard wind chimes announce his arrival Were they really for him? It was not true. They were there for the dead. The chimes were there to calm the spirits of those who died violently in the service of the empire. He had no right to think it was for him; he had not earned the privilege yet.

  He was here to ensure that a secret was kept. He contemplated the deed he had to do and sighed. As unpleasant as it was, it was necessary. Some people had to be sacrificed, to keep another more exalted person alive. And hopefully by dying, the secrecy could be prolonged. He entered the temple and avoided the great hall. There were no idols here, just a room that included a plaque that said that the souls of the brave were entrusted into the bosom of the Shangdi ‘God of Heaven’. Like numerous Temple of Heavens throughout the empire, this place was dedicated to Shangdi. There was nobody around. He knew where to find the person he was looking for, but first he needed to pay his respects. He felt a lump in his throat as he thought of what he must do later. He needed to find the caretaker, but also wished he did not have to. Without the caretaker, he could not achieve what he needed to do, but if he found him….he shook his head at the thought. After all, the caretaker was a friend.

  Behind the great hall was the memorial chamber. Here, stringed up in rows, were the bamboo name tag of each imperial bodyguard who died. Every soldier, upon enlistment, was given a bamboo tag with his name and place of birth written. Should he fall, the tag would be retrieved and recorded, then returned to his family, or in special cases, the tag would be placed here. It was a simple place to remember those who died for the emperor. Few knew of this place except the fraternity, and hence its simplicity. These elite men preferred to be among their own with as little uninvited company as possible, especially when they pass on to the other world.

  He walked along the rows of long-dead comrades, mouthing silently the names, remembering them. Occasionally he touched a tag or two, recalling fond memories. Then he came before one of the tags, the one he was looking for, and bowed his head. He bowed three times, a sign of respect. After an hour, he confirmed what he needed to know. He walked along the wooden corridor heading towards the rear of the building where he might find the person he was looking for. Then he heard a creak. Before him was the man he was looking for. He was sitting on a wheel chair, which creaked as its wooden wheels ground against the floor. The caretaker. “You’ve come.”

  “Yes. I’ve come to confirm it.”

  “And?”

  The visitor decided to speak his mind. “Seven men who were supposed to be dead are not.”

  The caretaker in the wheelchair was an old comrade. He volunteered to care for the glorious dead here in this secluded memorial hall, away from prying eyes and unwanted official attention. This was his way of making himself useful to the fraternity after he had lost his legs. It was also a way to remain with the brothers who had gone ahead of him.

  “Their tags are not here?”

  “No. And rightfully it should not, since they are alive.”

  “We have always known that. Who would want them dead?”

  “You know.”

  “It has come to that? The seven men must be resurrected to protect him from his murderous uncle?”

  “Yes. And their identities must not be found out, not until they could get to Jian Wen and take him to safety. Nothing could be hidden from the Eastern Depot for long, but we must give them as much time as they could.”

  “Do they know?”

  “They are on their way to rescue him.”

  The caretaker nodded as his suspicion was confirmed. “That means I am already in danger talking to you. I am not supposed to even know you came, right?” The caretaker looked at his visitor with sad but resolute eyes.

  “I am sorry my friend. This is larger than you and I. Even I might not be alive at the end of this episode.”

  The caretaker sighed. “We both live in a cruel world where we do not have a say in our destinies.”

  “Yes my friend. We can only live and die to protect those whom we are destined to serve.” After a pause, he said painfully, “I must tie up the loose end here. After I come, there will be others who will come and ask the same question. They will not spare you the pain.”

  “I know. I know who we are dealing with. Better you, my friend, than them. End it quickly. Then destroy this place, so that those who come after you will not overturn our efforts.” The caretaker said with a sense of urgency. He understood it too well. He knew the old man referred to the coming of the Eastern Depot.

  The visitor apologised, “I am sorry brother.”

  “There is nothing to be sorry about. We die so that
he, the Jian Wen emperor might live. And the identity of these seven men must be protected, so that our Lord will survive the coming ordeal.”

  He sighed again, “After so many years, it has finally come.”

  The caretaker nodded and opened his hand. The visitor placed a small ceramic bottle. The caretaker closed his eyes and drank the almond smelling liquid from the bottle. As the poison took effect, the bottle fell and broke with the sound of finality. He died immediately as the visitor had wanted. He wished to send his dear friend along his way as painlessly as possible. Then with tears in his eyes, he torched the memorial building. As he descended the moss-covered steps, Wen Xuan cried.

  SIXTEEN

  Ji Gang listened to the soft, unhurried footsteps approach. He really admired the monks for their peace of mind. Everywhere was tranquil. He could always hear chanting in the background, and smell the faint whiff of rich incense that testified of the generous budget the imperial monastery received. He had heard that the fragrance was bought from faraway lands. The imperial monastery was the place where male members of the court came to seek rest, guidance and solitude. Occasionally, they came here for safety. The emperor’s family, from the founding emperor to the current one, all had spent time here. He was sure Jian Wen spent time here before he disappeared.