Empress

by Shan Sa

  Puberty is a fleeting moment of beauty. When Little Phoenix was fourteen, he lifted his fringe from his forehead and tied his hair in a topknot. After his coming of age ceremony, the ministers pointed out to the sovereign that it was no longer suitable to keep this man in his gynaeceum. Little Phoenix left us and went to live in his royal residence. A few months later, he arrived at the Outer Court in the robes of an imperial official and began taking his part in political life. The Great High Princess9 of Shared Peace arranged his betrothal to one of her granddaughters, a young lady of high birth from the Wang clan in the province of Bing, whose grandfather had been a Great Minister in the Wei dynasty of the west and whose uncle had recently married a County Princess.10

  After her beloved brother left, Little Bull was a broken creature. My young princess was wasting away, and I was tormented by her cruel question: “Why does human life have to mean constant separation?” The day the king was married, Little Bull shut herself in her room and spoke to no one. She weakened under the weight of her melancholy. As the winter began, she succumbed to a violent fever; three days later, she escaped to the heavens.

  I saw the king again when her body was ceremonially placed in her coffin. He had grown: Beneath the white linen tunic, it was now a man who wept in sorrow. He appeared at the far end of a path even though I was trying to avoid him. His voice now had the deep resonance of an adult’s.

  “I killed her,” he said, stamping his feet in anguish. “I killed her!”

  We were both guilty; we had both been loved. I forgot propriety and cried with him in the whistling wind.

  The snow of my eighteenth year fell around us and covered the ground.

  BEYOND THE NORTHERN Gate, the Imperial Park—the vastest domain under the heavens11—stretched out to the west, its forests teeming with game and its rivers rich in fish. In the autumn, when the sun-scorched leaves turned to ochre, the ground reverberated to the sound of horns and drums, making dogs bark and tamed leopards roar. Horsemen bearing banners and standards appeared like the furious clouds of a rainstorm. The banners would part, and the emperor would appear beneath his yellow satin parasol, astride his favorite mount, drawing back his bow adorned with gold carvings. When he galloped like this, his solid body seemed to lose its weightiness and become lighter. The Master of the World was supple and agile; he was once again the invincible hero who had subjugated the Empire by force of arms.

  Banquets were held on the banks of the river. Whole boars and stags were spit-roasted, and bets were taken on the Turkish generals as they wrestled, stripped to the waist and oiled with animal fat. Kings and ministers took part in Tatar-style dancing, and the Emperor deigned to beat out the rhythm on a tambourine.

  On that particular day, drunk and in high spirits, His Majesty called for the horse called Winged Lion, which had been a gift from the King of the West. Generals and captains came forward in turn, each hoping to drink from the cup promised by the sovereign to whoever could master this huge beast with the golden mane. Drums rolled, and the enraged Winged Lion snorted and bucked, arching his back and launching himself into a full gallop only to stop dead in his tracks, throwing his rider to the ground.

  Cries of amazement and disappointment filled the air. Inflamed by this cruel game, the Emperor ordered for his sleeves to be rolled up and prepared to take up the challenge. The Great Ministers threw themselves to their knees:

  “His Majesty must take care of his divine self.”

  “It is not acceptable for the sovereign to put his life in danger.”

  “The sages would condemn such foolhardiness.”

  “Majesty, do not forget your responsibilities to the State!”

  Unsure how to proceed, the Emperor tapped his foot on the ground and looked around him.

  “Well, is there no one who can master this horse?”

  Hearing these words, I stepped forward and prostrated myself on the ground.

  “Your servant requests permission to try her luck!”

  For the first time, the sovereign turned his eye on me. Amazed and amused, he asked: “My generals were unable to control this beast. Young girl, are you not afraid to die beneath my mount’s flailing hooves?”

  I replied more calmly than I would have believed possible: “Majesty, creatures of violence must be mastered with violence. I shall make so bold as to ask for three tools: a whip, a hammer, and a dagger. First, I shall give him a lesson with the whip. If he disobeys me, I shall blow him on the head with the hammer. If he still rebels, I shall slit his throat.”

  The Emperor roared with laughter. He praised my attitude and told the Supreme Son that it was an excellent metaphor for the strategy he applied to the Tatar people. The very next day he summoned me to serve in his inner palace. Dressed in man’s robes, with my tablet and ink pot attached to my belt and my calligraphy brush through my topknot, I joined the ranks of the secretaries.

  THE PALACE OF Precious Dew was displaying its beds of irises and orchids. With its ceilings as high as the vault of the heavens, its curtains of pearls, its screens inscribed with calligraphy, and its succession of sinuous galleries, it was a labyrinth of intrigue. Its countless doors opened onto a little corner of sky, a sloping roof, a window in the shape of a crescent moon, a rockery smothered in the twisted limbs of a wisteria or an emerald pond around which white cranes flitted. Each of these ingenious touches meant that every guest felt that the Son of Heaven favored him alone.

  From my position behind screens of gauze and sliding doors, I could watch the endless streams of jealous concubines and princes hoping to find recognition. Taoist monks and doctors argued over the pile of immortality. When ministers and generals appeared and disappeared at the entrance to secret passageways, I knew that, somewhere in the Empire, rebel heads would roll.

  The poetess Xu was having difficulty standing up to the combined forces of her rivals. Following her miscarriage, the Delicate Concubine had withdrawn from the Emperor’s entourage and now led a sad and solitary life. The Gracious Wife was still struggling valiantly to maintain the sovereign’s favor. I was now half a head taller than the woman who had introduced me to the delights and horrors of love. Her eyes had lost their languid mistiness, and her leaden face exhaled an air of repeated debauchery. Her sugary words were sibilant nonsense. I could not believe that I had been enslaved to this monster.

  But I had learned to play games the way women do. So as not to have her as an enemy, I flattered her with well-placed lies. My promises kept her desires at bay, and I no longer abandoned myself to her. First love is a crossing to another world.

  I sometimes met Little Phoenix, who came to offer his greetings. He would manage to shake off the following of eunuchs and slip away with me behind a column or a tree. He would give me secret presents bought at peasant fairs: a wooden comb, a terracotta doll, a little horse made of sugar. These very ordinary trinkets were priceless in our Inner City. In exchange for his presents, he insisted that I listen to him describe his inextricable affairs with his young mistresses and I give him my advice. I watched my king growing up with a heavy heart. He was no longer the fevered adolescent who dreamed of magnificent battles against the Barbarians. His adult life was a succession of female conquests in which any feeling of glory disappeared the day after the victory. Still dissatisfied in his search for an ideal woman, he abandoned himself wholeheartedly to pointless suffering and transient happiness.

  He too was a prisoner of the forced inactivity of the imperial court; was there a better drug for him to find than love?

  One afternoon Little Phoenix appeared at the entrance to the manège where I was schooling a horse. He called for his usual mount and galloped over to me.

  Still far away, he called: “Did you know that the King of Qi, the son of Wife Yin, has led a revolt against Sovereign Father? He’s killed the Governor Delegate of his province-kingdom and proclaimed himself Emperor. Sovereign Father is furious. His ministers have approved an immediate repression. The armies of nine counties are ma
rching toward the rebel cities!”

  When he was closer to me, I could see tears on his cheeks.

  “This morning at the Emperor’s audience, my elder brother, Supreme Son, and my second brother, the King of Wei, each accused the other of being allied to the insurgent. I thought they were going to fight before the sovereign. Heavenlight, my brothers are going mad!”

  The Supreme Son and the King of Wei, who was second in line to the throne, were both born of the Empress of Learning and Virtue, and their rivalry in the Imperial City went back to their childhood. As the Emperor grew older, he was losing patience with the eldest, who preferred debauchery to study, and his affection was turning to the younger son who seemed more serious and intelligent. Seeing his title threatened, the heir became even more bullish and vindictive. As he drew close to his goal, the King of Wei became increasingly nervous and vapid. Their hatred for each other spread throughout the Court, and partisan clans had formed. Both camps slandered each other before the sovereign who, distressed by the conflict, could not reach a decision. The heir wanted his younger brother dead to secure his position; the King of Wei cursed his elder brother who held a place he did not deserve. Each of them secretly resented the sovereign for defending his adversary, and each of them was quite capable of seizing the throne by launching a coup. Princes turning to fratricide and usurping thrones was the curse of our dynasty!

  Little Phoenix interrupted my thoughts: “After the audience, the heir’s carriage held mine up as we turned a corner. He demanded that I speak ill of his enemy in front of Father. Later, I received a visit from the King of Wei in my palace. ‘Neutrality is a sign of weakness punishable by death,’ he told me. What should I do? How can I take either part? They are both guilty of sowing the seeds of unrest in the Palace. One of them is colluding with the rebels and has betrayed us. Heavenlight, I don’t want to be involved with any plotting and scheming! I’m afraid!”

  I tried to reassure him: “Your uncle the Great Chancellor Wu Ji, the brother of the honorable late Empress, has the sovereign’s ear. In the past, he took his Majesty’s part when he confronted his brothers; today he best understands the tragedy of the situation. The sovereign is too closely involved to act, but I know that he has instructed Lord Wu Ji to conduct a secret enquiry. Soon we shall know the truth. Your brothers are trying to frighten you. They are the ones who are dying of fear! Don’t trouble yourself; no one will have time to do you harm.”

  The atmosphere at the Palace of Precious Dew darkened. The Emperor was sullen and silent; he refused his favorite entry to his palace and condemned his servants to beatings for the least oversight. At night he would call for a slave, a little sweeping girl he had discovered one day, and this provoked acute indignation amongst the Court ladies.

  The rebel province was overcome by the imperial army’s attack. The King of Qi was brought to the Capital in chains. A decree from the sovereign stripped him of his position, his title, and his nobility. Now deposed, reduced to the state of commoner and imprisoned, he received the order to commit suicide.

  The enquiry conducted by Wu Ji revealed a conspiracy against the sovereign led by the heir and supported by members of the imperial family and high dignitaries. In prison the Supreme Son confessed his crimes. He lost his title and the right to wear the insignia of nobility. His eldest son was stripped of the mandate of Imperial Grandson. Both were exiled. Their chief accomplices were the King of Han, who was the sovereign’s brother; the prince consort Dou He, whose father had been one of the twenty-four veterans who founded the dynasty; the son of the High Princess of Vastness Zhao Jie; the Minister for Human Affairs; and Ho Jiun Ji, the great victor of the Gaochang War. All of them were imprisoned and had to wait until the autumn12 for their capital punishment. Except for the imperial princesses, the female members of their families became slaves in the Side Court. Their male descendants were granted the Emperor’s clemency; he did not want to see any more heads severed. They were whipped and banished to the south of the Mountain of the Extreme.

  Little Phoenix would come to me in the middle of the manège and confide his distress in me. He was deeply affected by this series of condemnations and seemed more helpless than ever. One day he broke down in tears.

  “There are arrests at the audience every day. The guards rip the headdresses and ivory tablets from conspirators, then drag them from their places amongst the officials. My heart beats so fast I fear I will pass out. Heavenlight, all these men have sworn loyalty to the sovereign—how can they break their word? My uncles and aunts grew up with Father; why are they trying to assassinate him now? If it had only been Elder Brother who rebelled, I might understand. But why these crowds of traitors, these hordes of conspirators? People have always said that Father is a good and fair ruler and that he is one of the best sovereigns the Empire has had. Why would his inferiors want to overthrow him?”

  “Highness, from the snatches of conversation I have overheard between the sovereign and his confidants, I have learned that most men are hungry for power and wealth, that the smallest promise of obtaining them can make men change their minds. Ambitious men like that confuse their own interests with the future of the Empire and cannot distinguish between a good sovereign and a bad emperor.”

  My explanation was not enough to calm Little Phoenix. He went further: “I have also heard that half these people are condemned without proof. They are guilty simply of being the friends of the conspirators. Why has Father become so cruel!”

  “Highness, promise me you will not say those words before anyone else. You must silence these thoughts in front of your brothers. Your compassion might be denounced. You in turn would be suspected of being allied to the conspirators.”

  “Oh, Heavenlight, I regret Empress Mother’s death more than ever. She would know how to soften Father’s harshness and how to heal my uncle’s murderous madness!”

  “Highness, wipe your tears, you who dream of being a conqueror, do not be conquered by pity. The sovereign must defend his crown for he has built a powerful empire and made the people happy. Tomorrow, free of these troubles, he will strive again for the prosperity of the dynasty. Compared to this substantial task that benefits millions of individuals, the hundred or so men who are to be decapitated count for nothing!”

  Little Phoenix sighed: “Now that my brother the King of Wei has removed his opponent, the title of heir automatically falls to him. He’s a suspicious man, a grudge-bearer. His accession will be the beginning of the end. He will kill all his brothers to keep his crown.”

  “The Emperor has not yet announced the name of his successor. This delay proves that he is hesitating, that he has another possibility in mind.”

  “What could this other possibility be? The King of Wu, the son of Precious Wife?”

  “You, Highness!” I cried indignantly. “Your uncle Wu Ji, the head of the Great Ministers who faithfully keeps alive the memory of the Empress of Learning and Virtue, would never let the child of an imperial concubine accede to the throne. Your heart is pure and your generosity vast. You would be a good and fair sovereign; you would bring prosperity and peace to the Empire.”

  Terrified, he shook his head. “There is such madness in your ideas! The King of Wu has been reciting poems since he was four years old. He is the child prodigy, Father’s favorite. I’m just an ordinary prince. I have no desire to reign. My brothers are fascinated by power, but it disgusts me. I would prefer the perilous campaigns of an army commander, far from the plotting at Court. I shall go and talk to my uncle who knows Sovereign Father’s intentions. I will concede my place to the King of Wu.”

  “From his mother’s side, the King of Wu bears the blood of Emperor Yang of the overthrown dynasty. He will never be sovereign of ours. If you speak now to Wu Ji, head of the Great Ministers, he will think that you are actually maneuvering to be given the title. It is too soon to guess the future and too late to act. Let life decide this for you!”

  A few days later Little Phoenix’s destiny played i
tself out in the most extraordinary way. The dismissed prince wrote to his father from prison: “…Your servant had already been distinguished with the position of heir, what more could I ask for? Slandered and persecuted by the King of Wei, I sought advice from my counselors to find peace. It was these men and their intrigue that drove me to criminal means…. If Your Majesty now appoints the King of Wei as successor, you would be fulfilling the wishes of an underhanded man who will have achieved all he was scheming for….”

  After reading this, the Emperor realized that nominating the King of Wei would encourage all the princes to covet the title of heir, and the Empire would not know another moment’s peace. The Great Minister Wu Ji then suggested the King of Jin to the sovereign. He was the ninth imperial son, but the third to be born of the late Empress. Little Phoenix, until then forgotten, became the perfect candidate, and the Court, bowing before Wu Ji’s power, upheld him unanimously.

  The King of Wei was stripped of his dignity and exiled to the county of Dong Lai. Little Phoenix was proclaimed heir: He rejected the responsibility but, as refusal was all part of the ritual of imperial nomination, no one realized that his intention was very real. When he wanted to offer his title to the King of Wu, the ministers praised his modesty. In the confusion, Little Phoenix received the seal of Supreme Son.

  The sovereign had the following pronouncement inscribed in the Imperial Records: “When the heir strays from his duty and when the king plots to have him removed, both fall from grace.”

  WHEN THE NEW heir took up residence in the Eastern Palace, one of his concubines brought a son into the world. At sixteen, Little Phoenix was blessed with every earthly happiness.