China

by Edward Rutherfurd

  A few days later I brought in refreshments to him when he had granted an audience to a young British barbarian whom he employed to organize the customs collections in the ports.

  Now I was always pleased that the prince encouraged the employment of skilled barbarians in matters of finance and trade. For together with the use of men like Gordon in our army, it let all the people see that the barbarians of the West were being tamed and becoming obedient servants of the empire. So I had expected the barbarian to be kneeling respectfully before him. But to my surprise I found the two men sitting at a table side by side.

  Seeing my astonishment, the prince laughed. “This fellow has been teaching me the arithmetics of trade,” he said. “It’s quite shocking how little I know. I’m like a child. I was educated in all the things a mandarin should know,” he went on. “Confucius, the classics, how to write an elegant essay. Yet I was never taught anything of these practical affairs. Our system of education is clearly deficient.”

  At the time I was unhappy that he should say such a thing in front of a barbarian. But now I realize that the prince was showing his kingly nature in the highest degree. For a great king must constantly desire to improve his kingdom by learning new things. And to learn, he must be curious and also humble. For a proud man never learns anything.

  I heard only one person speak against Prince Gong. And that was my father. “Prince Gong has one great weakness,” he told me.

  “Oh,” I said. “What’s that?”

  “He should kill the emperor,” he replied, “and rule in his place.” He wasn’t joking.

  “Don’t say such a thing,” I begged him. “You could get us all in trouble.”

  “Who was the greatest of all the emperors of the mighty Tang dynasty?” he asked.

  “The Emperor Taizong,” I replied, “called by history the Emperor Wen.” Though twelve hundred years had passed, he was still a legend.

  “And how did he come to power? By killing his two brothers and persuading the emperor his father to step down. That’s breaking every Confucian principle. Yet he did it, and it was the right thing to do.”

  “I don’t know about right,” I said. “Anyway, the emperor has a son, by the Noble Consort Yi, who should succeed him.”

  “We need a strong ruler, not a boy who’ll be just as useless as his father.”

  “Prince Gong will behave correctly,” I said stiffly.

  “That’s what’s wrong with him,” my father replied.

  * * *

  —

  “If you want the emperor dead,” I said next time I saw him, “you may not have long to wait.”

  It was absurd. The man was only approaching his thirtieth birthday. He’d looked terrible before he’d skulked off to the north, but by spring we heard from the Hunting Palace that he was falling apart. They were bringing girls in to him for orgies, they said. He was drinking and taking opium; his legs were so swollen he couldn’t stand. Was he deliberately trying to debauch himself to death?

  Summer came. A great comet appeared in the sky. Some people said that the comet was a sign of hope, but most thought it meant the emperor was about to depart.

  “The Mandate of Heaven is being withdrawn,” my father said. “End of the dynasty.”

  I remember the moment I knew the emperor had died. It was a sweltering day in August. I’d been to see my family, and I was walking back to Prince Gong’s mansion. A heavy downpour of rain had just ended. The dust in the streets was still sodden.

  A wedding procession came by. There had been a lot of weddings that summer, because the rule was that when an emperor died, the nation had to go into mourning, and nobody in the capital could marry for a hundred days. So anyone who wanted to get married just then was in a hurry.

  There was the bride, a pretty girl all dressed in red for her wedding and carried in a gilded litter. Her brightly dressed escorts were looking full of themselves. People were smiling and applauding as they passed. And then suddenly I saw a man come hurrying towards them and say something to the escorts. Next thing, the little procession was running down the street with the bride as fast as they could, with the poor girl clinging on to the sides of the chair for dear life. I looked quickly up at the sky to see if there was a cloudburst coming, but the sky was clear blue. So then I realized what it must mean. The emperor had died, and they were running to start the wedding before anyone forbade them. I hope they made it.

  By the time I reached Prince Gong’s mansion, everyone was already dressed in white for imperial mourning. Mandarins, officers, and relations were coming in and out of the house all day and the next. His handsome young brother Prince Chun arrived with his wife. She somewhat resembled her sister the Noble Consort Yi, though not quite so fine, I thought. Then a messenger from north of the Wall rode in and Prince Gong spoke with him alone.

  I just kept quiet and remained in the main hall to listen to what people were saying. It wasn’t long before I learned what was going on.

  We had a new emperor. That was the first thing. The Noble Consort Yi had been excluded from the emperor’s presence. But when she’d realized that he was on the point of death, she’d taken matters into her own hands, grabbed her little son, forced her way into the emperor’s chamber, woken him up, shown him the boy, and asked if he was the heir. And the emperor had stirred himself, declared that the throne must pass to the child, and said there must be a regency council. That was all-important, because once the emperor chooses an heir in the correct line of succession, then the court must obey his decision.

  Some people had wondered whether Prince Sushun wanted to seize the throne for himself; but he really couldn’t now. Everyone in Beijing was full of praise for the Noble Consort Yi.

  But who was on the council? Who, as they say, would hold the seals?

  There were twenty-five great seals with which imperial decrees were stamped. The regents would hold the seals, therefore, until the boy emperor came of age. As for the council, there was plenty of precedent. First, the new emperor’s uncles. That meant Prince Gong obviously, and at least some of his brothers. People even wondered whether dashing young Prince Chun might be included. It was not unknown for the late emperor’s widow to hold one of the seals also. Then there would be some senior mandarins and other wise men. We had to wait another day for this news.

  When it came, it was devastating. None of the uncles, not even Prince Gong, was on the council. All the places had gone to Prince Sushun and his gang. It was against all precedent. It was an outrage. In an attempt, perhaps, to make the thing look more legitimate, the empress and the Noble Consort Yi, because she was the new emperor’s mother, had each been given a seal. The empress, obviously, wouldn’t give any trouble; and the Noble Consort Yi, so recently in disgrace, wasn’t in a position to thwart the council even if she wanted to.

  “We don’t believe the late emperor made these provisions at all, whatever state he was in.” That’s what most of the people who came to Prince Gong’s house said. “This is all Prince Sushun’s doing.” And I was expecting Prince Gong to denounce the whole business.

  But to my surprise, Prince Gong said nothing at all. Neither that day nor in the days that followed. He quietly continued to maintain order in Beijing and let it be known that he would perform his duties there until such time as the regency council decided otherwise.

  Prince Gong did also receive private news from the Hunting Palace. He never confided any of this to me, but the princess did.

  “The mandarins at the court up there aren’t at all happy with Prince Sushun,” she told me one day. “One of the censors—you know the censors are allowed to say whatever they wish—anyway, one of the censors has told Prince Sushun that the regency council is illegal and that he should hand all the seals to the empress. Though I don’t know what good that would do, since she hasn’t got an idea in her head.”

  “How did Pr
ince Sushun take that?” I asked.

  “He was furious. He’d like to get rid of the censor and the empress, and the Noble Consort Yi as well.”

  “Could he do it?” I asked anxiously.

  “He’s got to be careful. Even some of his own council won’t let him go that far.”

  Then we heard Prince Sushun had backed down and that the council had raised both women to the rank of dowager empress, which was a status higher than any of the other regents—at least in theory. But with the regents up in the north while Prince Gong was running Beijing, China was in suspense. No one knew what would happen next.

  And there was one other big problem: the dead emperor’s body. It had to be brought to Beijing for official burial. Prince Sushun and his gang would have to come with it. And the weather was still warm. The corpse wasn’t getting any younger. They must have embalmed it, but even so…

  Nearly a month passed, and nobody moved. Then Prince Gong and Prince Chun went up together to the Hunting Palace to see the regents there.

  The princess was in a terrible state. “I’m just afraid Prince Sushun might poison them,” she said.

  “He wouldn’t dare do that,” I reassured her. Not that I had the faintest idea, really.

  We heard that Prince Sushun received Prince Gong and Prince Chun very coldly. Almost insulting. But it was agreed Prince Gong should continue to maintain order in the capital for the moment, and he did manage to see the dowager empresses.

  When Prince Gong got back here, the word went out: “Prince Gong remains steadfast to his motto: ‘No Private Heart.’ He serves at the pleasure of the Regency.” A lot of people were disappointed and criticized him for not standing up to Prince Sushun. But he was firm.

  A little while after this, Prince Chun went north again and saw the empresses before returning. Arrangements were made for the emperor’s body to travel south as soon as possible. The whole court would accompany the body—the boy emperor, the dowager empresses, the regents, the lot of them.

  “And that’ll be the end of your friend Prince Gong,” my father told me. “Once the regents take over in Peking, he’ll be out. If not something worse.”

  * * *

  —

  The corpse was forty-four days old before it began its journey, in a golden carriage down the mountain passes towards the Great Wall. Within days, the rains had begun, and the cortege slowed its pace to a crawl. Everyone knew there were bandits up in that wild country.

  “I must say,” the princess remarked to me, two days running, “I’m glad Prince Gong isn’t with them. Anything could happen to you in a storm up there and no one would be any the wiser.”

  I thought of the Noble Consort Yi.

  One evening I entered the chamber where Prince Gong liked to work, made a low bow, and asked if I might speak to him. He stared at me. “Well?”

  “Your slave dares to wonder whether the young emperor and his party are safe as they travel through the mountains in this weather,” I said. “Might your slave inquire if Your Highness has any news?”

  “You are wondering if the Noble Consort Yi is safe?”

  “Your slave was concerned for all the party,” I said.

  But he laughed. “Do you want me to give you a sword and tell you to go and defend her?”

  My face must have given away the fact that this was my heart’s desire.

  “I’ve just sent two of the best cavalry squadrons from my Beijing brigade to escort them,” he told me. “They’re on their way.”

  It wasn’t until they’d been on the road for twenty-seven days that the imperial cortege came to the gates of Beijing. Even then, the heavy golden carriage containing the corpse was still a day’s journey in the rear. Prince Sushun himself rode with the late emperor’s body. Because he was the senior member of the regency council, this was the correct procedure.

  But the boy emperor, the two empresses, the rest of the regents, and the court all came to the city gates that day. The weather was fine. The roofs of the city shone in the sunlight. The long street from the outer southern gate, which led through gateway after gateway until it reached the moated purple walls and golden roofs of the Forbidden City itself, had been covered half an inch deep in golden sand that made a gleaming path. On either side, all the way from the southern gate to the entrance of the Imperial City, blue screens had been set up to keep the boy emperor from being stared at.

  And Prince Gong had summoned all twenty thousand of his new Beijing brigade, beautifully turned out to line the last part of the route and salute the emperor and the regents as they passed.

  I was allowed to be in attendance on Prince Gong as he waited to receive the boy emperor at the gate of the Imperial City—an act of great kindness and thoughtfulness on his part. It was a splendid sight. The boy emperor and his mother were carried in a magnificent yellow chair. Prince Gong advanced to make the kowtow and then conducted the imperial party and the regents, in the most friendly manner, into the Forbidden City. I was walking just behind with some of the mandarins, who were all looking with great admiration at the splendid Beijing brigade guards who surrounded us.

  It was just after we’d entered the Forbidden City that I noticed something a little strange.

  The imperial party, the regents, and other members of the princely families were all going into a chamber where refreshments were to be served. The Beijing brigade guards were formed up by the doorway. Handsome young Prince Chun was with the imperial party, of course, but instead of entering with the rest, he hung back by the door. He seemed to be watching for a signal. I saw him give a slight nod. Then he stepped outside, as the guards closed the doors, and I saw him walking swiftly away.

  Well, I hung about with the other people. And after a few minutes an extraordinary thing happened. The doors burst open. A company of guards marched out. And in their custody were the regents, Prince Sushun’s gang, the lot of them.

  They’d been arrested.

  * * *

  —

  The whole business took only seven days. Prince Chun and a squadron of cavalry arrested Prince Sushun within hours. They say he was found in bed with one of his concubines only yards from the dead emperor’s golden catafalque, which he was supposed to be guarding and respecting. It may be true or not. But there was no need to make up any bad stories about him. The mandarins hated him; the people hated him; the military were all against him. The Imperial Clan Court immediately found him and his gang guilty of crimes against the state. His brother and another royal regent were allowed to hang themselves. As for Sushun himself, he was beheaded like a common criminal.

  But there was no vengeance against those who’d gone along with Sushun. I think Prince Gong was very wise. A new regents council headed by Prince Gong and including both the dowager empresses was soon in place. And life went on again.

  * * *

  —

  As I look back on it now, I have to say that I think Prince Sushun was exceedingly foolish. Firstly, by excluding the royal uncles, he went against all precedent, so that put all the mandarins against him. Secondly, he tried to start a coup from a distant place, cut off from the power center of Beijing. For you need to be on the spot where all the players are.

  Above all, he had no military force to make his enemies submit to him.

  Power comes from the barrel of a gun—the barbarians had shown us that. Our huge numbers had been useless against their superior arms. And Prince Gong had twenty thousand well-trained men with modern rifles. It was never any contest. Even the twenty-five seals of the Celestial Empire count for nothing against the barrel of a gun.

  The only puzzle, one might say, is why Prince Sushun was so foolish. In my opinion, Prince Sushun was arrogant, where Prince Gong was humble—and the humble man has an advantage over the arrogant man. And why was Prince Sushun so arrogant? It may have been because he was so rich. Rich people
are used to getting their own way all the time. So they get arrogant and make mistakes. Prince Sushun made a mistake and lost his head.

  * * *

  —

  It was two days after the arrest of Prince Sushun that Mr. Liu came to Prince Gong’s house. The two of them were closeted together for some time. Then Mr. Liu came out and started towards the quarters of the princess. I was standing just outside her receiving room in the passageway, so Mr. Liu and I came face-to-face.

  I hadn’t seen him since the day he tricked me into missing the court’s departure for the Great Wall. And as he’d only just come back from there himself, I thought he might not even know that I was still alive. I really wasn’t sure what to say to him. So I just bowed low.

  But he didn’t look surprised to see me at all. His face lit up with a big smile. “Ah, Lacquer Nail, there you are,” he says. “I’ve heard all about your exploits. You’ve turned into a warrior since we last met. A slayer of barbarians. A rescuer of princesses. Splendid, splendid.” You’d have thought he was my greatest benefactor.

  “Your humble servant, Mr. Liu,” I answered quietly.

  “I’ve come to call on the princess,” he went on. “Would you go in and ask if she will receive me?”

  Not with any pleasure, she won’t, I thought to myself, remembering how she’d once told me he was an awful man. But moments later I was holding the door open for him. And I was quite astonished when I heard her say, in the friendliest voice: “My dear Mr. Liu. How can we thank you for all you have done for us?” And then to me: “Close the door, Lacquer Nail.” By which she meant that I should be on the outside of it. So I heard no more.

  Later that day, after Mr. Liu had gone, I did venture to say to the princess that I’d been quite surprised at how pleased she was to see him. For a moment she didn’t reply.

  “You’re clever, Lacquer Nail,” she remarked finally. “But you have a lot to learn.”