Empress Orchid (35 page)

I decided to hold on to the report until I could meet with Prince Kung and discuss the matter. Tseng was too important to the nation’s stability, and if this was what he would cost me, I might have to close my eyes and pay the price. In a way, I would rather see Tseng Kuo-fan keep the money, knowing that he would use it to equip his army, which would end up protecting me, than see the money fall into Su Shun’s hands and be spent on conspiracies against me.

The report left me with the impression that Tseng had offered Hart what amounted to a large bribe for his cooperation. But Hart had proven unshakable: he would not compromise his loyalty toward his employer, Prince Kung. What had made him stand so firm? What principles and values had he been raised with? I hadn’t expected a foreigner to be loyal to our dynasty. This taught me a great lesson. I wanted to meet this man. If I could, I would have him introduced to Tung Chih.

My request to meet with Robert Hart was first delayed, then postponed, and then turned down. The court voted unanimously that it would be an insult to China if I “lowered” myself to meet with him. More than four decades would pass before we finally met. Then, I told the court that I wouldn’t be able to die in peace if I didn’t thank the man who had helped me hold the sky together.

The blood-colored wild chrysanthemums bloomed in madness. The plants hung over my fences and covered the ground of my courtyard.
Still shaken by the contents of a letter recently sent by Prince Kung, I was in no mood to appreciate the flowers. In his letter, the prince described his day. It was after he delivered the treaties signed by his dying brother, Emperor Hsien Feng.

“I was escorted to the Forbidden City by General Sheng Pao, who was no longer captive, and four hundred horsemen. I then took only twenty men and entered the main hall of the Board of Rites to meet with my counterpart, Lord Elgin.” Through Prince Kung’s choice of words I sensed his anger. “This was my first time entering the heavenly ground after the foreigners had assaulted it. Lord Elgin was three hours late. He entered with two thousand men in a display of pomp. He rode in a crimson palanquin borne by sixteen men, knowing that this privilege was reserved only for the Emperor of China. I made an effort to be gracious, although I was disgusted beyond description. I bowed slightly and shook Elgin’s hands in the Chinese style. I struggled and succeeded in keeping my emotions from spilling.”

I admired the wisdom of his concluding words, addressed to Su Shun and the court: “If we do not learn to restrain our rage but continue with hostilities, we are liable to sudden catastrophe. We must advise our people throughout the nation to act in accordance with the treaties and not allow the foreigners to go even slightly beyond them. In our external expression we should be sincere and amicable but quietly try to keep them in line. Then, within the next few years, even though they may occasionally make demands, they will not cause us a great calamity. Time is crucial to our recovery.”

Again I felt that Tung Chih was blessed by having a level-headed uncle. Su Shun might increase his own popularity by challenging Prince Kung and calling him “the devil’s slave,” but what could be easier than sneering at someone? Prince Kung had a nasty but necessary job. His office was in a rundown Buddhist temple in northwestern Peking. It was a dirty, cheerless, barren space. His workload was excessive, and the outcome of his negotiations almost a foregone conclusion. It must have been unbearable. The numbers the foreigners demanded in indemnities and reparations were ridiculous, far in excess of any real damages and military costs. His days must have been worse than my own.

By the time I put the letter down I was so exhausted that I fell asleep instantly. In my dreams I set fire to every pile of documents in my room.

It was my weakness that I longed for a man’s shoulder to lean on. I knew it and struggled against it, but my feelings kept surfacing. I
sought distraction and buried myself in work. I asked An-te-hai to make stronger tea and chewed up the leaves after I drank. Finally I succeeded in clearing my floor of all the documents. I didn’t know if the court’s business had slowed because Su Shun couldn’t keep up with me, or if he had changed his tactics and stopped sending me documents.

Without work to occupy my evenings, I became restless and irritable. There were other things I could have turned to—reading, writing a poem or painting. But I was simply unable to concentrate. I went to bed and stared at the ceiling. In the deep quiet of night Yung Lu’s face and the way he moved on his horse passed back and forth before my eyes, and I wondered what it would be like to ride with him.

“Would you like a back rub, my lady?” An-te-hai whispered in the dark. His voice told me that he had been awake.

I said nothing and he was beside me. He knew that I wouldn’t allow myself to say yes. But he also knew I had been in a kind of agony. Like a force of nature, my desire must follow its own path until sated and spent. My body was ready for release.

In silence, An-te-hai held me. Gently and slowly he touched my shoulders, my neck, my back. My body was comforted. He kept rubbing. His hands were everywhere. Soothing and dream-like, he breathed lines from a song into my ear:

The void in my mind expanded. Plum flowers danced in the air like white feathers.

An-te-hai became more forceful the moment he discovered my arousal. He breathed deeply as if to smell my scent.

“I love you so much, my lady,” the eunuch whispered again and again.

My eyes saw Yung Lu. He was taking me with him on his horse. Like an ancient Bannerman’s wife, I clung to his waist amid the clattering pots and pans lashed to the saddle. The two of us moved in perfect rhythm. We traveled in an endless wilderness.

My body grew calm, like an ocean after a storm.

Without lighting a candle, An-te-hai removed himself from the bed.

A strand of wet hair had fallen on my face. I tasted my own sweat.

In the moonlight my eunuch prepared a basin of warm water. He bathed me tenderly with a towel. He did it smoothly as if he had been practicing this all his life.

I drifted into peaceful sleep.

A COPY OF A DECREE written by Su Shun to Prince Kung in the name of Tung Chih was sent to me. The decree forbade Prince Kung to come to Jehol and was issued without Nuharoo’s and my seals. On the surface, Prince Kung had been given the most honorable task—to guard the capital—but what the edict effectively accomplished was to prevent contact between him and us.

I went to Nuharoo and told her that we must get in touch with Prince Kung. There were decisions we couldn’t make without first consulting him. Our lives were at stake, since Su Shun now ignored us openly. To prove my point, I read Nuharoo the second item in the decree, an order transferring several generals who were loyal to Su Shun from Peking to Jehol. “Does this tell you what is on Su Shun’s mind?” I asked her.

Nuharoo nodded. Her spy had reported to her that Prince Kung had sent messengers to Jehol, but none of them had reached us.

The same morning my sister Rong brought me new information. Prince Ch’un had received an order from the court, issued by Su Shun: he was no longer allowed to travel freely between Jehol and Peking. This was why he was not here with his wife. Prince Ch’un was under Su Shun’s close watch. Our only connection to Prince Kung had been cut off.

An-te-hai’s “ears” in Peking reported that Prince Kung had been actively working to assemble a counterforce. Three days before, he had organized a meeting under the guise of a mourning ceremony for Em-
peror Hsien Feng. In addition to the leadership of the royal clansmen, Prince Kung had invited important military commanders such as General Sheng Pao, the Mongol warrior Seng-ko-lin-chin, and General Tseng Kuo-fan, who was now also the viceroy of Anhwei province. Prince Kung had also invited the foreign ambassadors of England, France, Germany, Russia, Italy and Japan. Robert Hart had initiated the idea of the meeting. For some time, Hart had been advising Prince Kung on financial matters; he had now stepped into the role of Kung’s unofficial political advisor.

“I think we should wait,” Nuharoo said to me. “We should allow Su Shun’s evil to expose itself. We need time to prove to our citizens that Su Shun doesn’t deserve our respect. On the other hand, we should not forget that it was Emperor Hsien Feng who appointed Su Shun. The situation might backfire if we act without the support of the court.”

I tried to make Nuharoo see that this last decree severely limited Prince Kung’s chances of survival. If Prince Kung ignored Su Shun and came to Jehol, he would be accused of disobeying the decree, and Su Shun would arrest him the moment he stepped through the gate. But if Kung remained in Peking, Su Shun would gain the time he needed to take the entire court into his hands. It was only obvious and natural that he would find an excuse to prosecute us.

“You are crazy, Lady Yehonala.” Nuharoo said. “Su Shun has no legitimate reason to prosecute us.”

“He can create one. If he is capable of issuing decrees on his own, he will not hesitate when the time comes to remove us. Then he will go after Prince Kung.”

Nuharoo stood. “I must go to Hsien Feng’s coffin and pray. His Majesty should be told about this so that his spirits will help us in Heaven.”

The night guard beat his drum three times. It was three o’clock in the morning. The darkness was still deep. Lying in bed, I thought about what Nuharoo had said. Indeed, Su Shun was our husband’s choice. Hsien Feng had trusted him. Was I wrong to doubt Su Shun? Would it help if I expressed my willingness to work with him regardless of our differences? After all, we were both Manchus. Weren’t we trying to hold up the same sky?

I was unable to convince myself. Nuharoo and I were Tung Chih’s acting regents, appointed by Emperor Hsien Feng. But Su Shun regarded us as nothing but figureheads. We had no say over the edicts and decrees. A few days before, he had even refused to revise a draft that we
had given our permission to issue after a few small changes. Orders and requests from us in the voice of Tung Chih made their way through the court hierarchy and came back without a response, while Su Shun’s words were carried immediately into action.

Nuharoo suggested that we make one last offer to work things out with Su Shun. I agreed.

The next morning, dressed in our official robes, Nuharoo and I summoned Su Shun for an audience in the name of the young Emperor. We went to the hall where Hsien Feng’s coffin sat behind a panel. As we waited, Tung Chih climbed on top of the coffin and lay on his stomach.

I watched my son as he knocked on the coffin. He whispered to his father about his new friend, the red-eyed rabbit. He invited his father to come out and see it. “I will hold the lid up for you.”

“Explain why the decree to Prince Kung was sent without our seals,” Nuharoo demanded when Su Shun appeared.

Su Shun stood arrogantly in his full-length brown satin robe with gold stripes on the bottom. He was wearing a hat decorated with a red button and a flamboyant peacock feather. He took off the hat and held it in his hands. His head was shaved and his braid oiled. His chin was tilted so high that he was practically facing the ceiling. He looked at us with half-opened eyes. “The court has the right to issue documents of an urgent nature without your seals.”

“But this violates our agreement,” I said, trying to control my anger.

“As His Young Majesty’s regents,” Nuharoo followed, “we object to the content of the last decree. Prince Kung has a right to come to Jehol to mourn his brother.”

“We would like to see Prince Kung get his wish,” I pressed.

“Fine!” Su Shun stamped his foot. “If you want my job, it is yours. I refuse to work until you learn not to take my kindness for granted!”

He made a sloppy bow and walked out. In the courtyard the rest of his board members, whom we had not invited, received him.

The documents piled up, creating walls in my room. All requested immediate attention. Nuharoo regretted that we had challenged Su Shun.

I tried not to panic. I reviewed the documents as I had when working for Emperor Hsien Feng. I had to prove to Su Shun that I was equal to the job. I needed to earn the respect, not of Su Shun, but of the court.

As soon as I began to work, I realized that the task was more than I could handle. Su Shun had set me up.

Many of the cases were impossible to solve. Under the circumstances, it would be irresponsible to issue a judgment; only injustice and unnecessary pain would come of it. I lacked necessary information and was prevented from gathering it. In one case, a regional governor was accused of embezzlement and more than a dozen homicides. I needed to gather evidence and ordered an investigation, but I received no reports. Weeks later, I discovered that my order had never been acted on.

I called Su Shun and demanded an explanation.

He denied any responsibility and said that he wasn’t the one in charge. He referred me to the justice ministry. When I questioned the head minister, he said he had never received the order.

Letters from all over the country had begun to complain about the slow workings of the court. It was clear that Su Shun had planted the seed in people’s minds that I was the one holding everything back. The rumors spread like a contagious disease. I wasn’t sure how bad things had become until one day I received an open letter from a small-town mayor questioning my background and credentials. There was no way the man would ever dare to send such a letter unless he was backed by someone like Su Shun.

As I paced back and forth in my document-cluttered room, An-te-hai returned from taking Tung Chih for a visit to my sister. He was so nervous that he stuttered. “The t-town of Jehol has been g-go-gossiping about a ghost story. The folks b-believe that you are the incarnation of an evil concubine who is here to destroy the empire. Talk of supporting Su Shun’s action against you is everywhere.”

Realizing that I couldn’t afford to wait any longer, I went to Nuharoo.

“But how should we act?” Nuharoo asked.

“Issue an urgent decree in Tung Chih’s name summoning Prince Kung to Jehol,” I replied.

“Would it be valid?” Nuharoo became nervous. “Usually it is Su Shun who drafts orders and prepares edicts.”

“With both of our seals it is valid.”

“How would you get the decree to Prince Kung?”

“We must think of a way.”

“With Su Shun’s watchdogs everywhere, no one can get out of Jehol.”

“We must select a reliable person for the mission,” I said, “and he must be willing to die for us.”

• • •

An-te-hai asked for the honor. In exchange, he wanted me to promise that he would be allowed to serve me for the rest of his life. I gave him my word. I made him understand that if he was caught by Su Shun, I expected him to swallow the decree and do everything to avoid making a confession.

With Nuharoo by my side, I worked on the details of An-te-hai’s escape plan. My first step was to have An-te-hai spread a rumor among Su Shun’s circle. We targeted a man named Liu Jen-shou, a notorious gossip. The story we spread was that we had lost the most powerful seal of all, the Hsien Feng seal, which we carefully hid away. We created an impression that we had been concealing the truth because we understood that the penalty for losing the seal was death. We concocted three possibilities regarding the seal’s whereabouts. One, we had lost it on our way from Peking to Jehol; two, we had misplaced it somewhere in the Palace of Great Purity back in the Forbidden City; and three, we had left it with my jewelry boxes at Yuan Ming Yuan, which likely had been stolen by the barbarians.

Our rumor also said that Emperor Hsien Feng knew that the seal had been lost before he died, and he was too gentle-hearted to punish us. In order to protect us His Majesty hadn’t mentioned the disappearance to Su Shun.

As we had expected, Liu Jen-shou took little time in passing the rumor to Su Shun’s very ear. The story made sense to Su Shun, as no one could remember seeing the prized seal since leaving Peking.

Su Shun didn’t wait to make his move. He immediately requested an audience with us, which was attended by the entire court. He declared that he had just finished drafting a new decree addressing the nation regarding the moving of the coffin, and he needed to use the Hsien Feng seal.

Pretending to be nervous, I took out my handkerchief and wiped my forehead. “Our double seals are as good as the Hsien Feng seal,” I said in a small voice.

Su Shun was clearly pleased. The lines on his face danced and his veins stood out with excitement. “Where is the Hsien Feng seal?” he demanded.

With the excuse that I was suddenly feeling ill, Nuharoo and I requested that the audience be brought to an end.

Su Shun pressed onward. He kept at me until I confessed that An-te-hai had lost the seal.

An-te-hai was arrested and dragged out by the guards as he
screamed for forgiveness. He was taken out for punishment—one hundred lashes.

I was afraid that An-te-hai wouldn’t be able to bear the suffering. Fortunately, the eunuch was meant to live—he truly had friends everywhere. Later, when he was brought back by Su Shun’s guards, his robe was in shreds and matted with blood.

I was aware that Su Shun was observing me, so I not only made myself look unmoved, but also said in a cold voice, “The eunuch deserved it.”

Water was poured over An-te-hai’s face and he came to. In front of the court, Nuharoo and I ordered An-te-hai to be thrown into the Imperial prison in Peking.

Su Shun didn’t want to let An-te-hai out of his sight, but Nuharoo and I insisted that we must rid ourselves of the ungrateful creature. When Su Shun protested, we argued that we had the right to punish our own house eunuch without restriction. We went to the back of the hall, to Hsien Feng’s coffin, and wept loudly.

Pressed by the senior clansmen to leave us alone, Su Shun relented. But he insisted that his men escort An-te-hai to Peking.

We agreed, and An-te-hai was on his way. Hidden between layers of An-te-hai’s shoes was the decree I had written.

In Peking, Su Shun’s men turned An-te-hai over to the minister of Imperial justice, Pao Yun, along with Su Shun’s secret message—I learned of this later—that An-te-hai be beaten to death. Unaware of the situation, Pao Yun prepared to carry out Su Shun’s order. But before the whips went to work, An-te-hai requested a private moment with the minister.

An-te-hai took out my decree from its hiding place.

Pao Yun was dumbfounded. Without delay he contacted Prince Kung.

Upon reading my decree, Prince Kung gathered his advisors. They listened to An-te-hai’s report on the situation in Jehol and discussed a course of action long into the night. The conclusion was unanimous: overthrow Su Shun.

Prince Kung understood that if he hesitated in helping Nuharoo and me, power could quickly fall into Su Shun’s hands. There would be no recovering from such a loss, since he and Prince Ch’un had been excluded from Emperor Hsien Feng’s will.

The first step Prince Kung took was to select someone to present his idea to the court in the most legal and logical way. Kung turned to the
head of Imperial personnel. He asked the man to come up with a proposal suggesting that Nuharoo and I be named executive regents—the only regents—of Tung Chih, replacing Su Shun, and that we run the court with Prince Kung.

After the proposal had been completed, a trusted local official was chosen to submit it. The intent was to create the impression that the idea had come from the grassroots level, which would make it difficult for Su Shun to throw it out without a review. By using this method, the proposal would also make the rounds and be reviewed by every governor in China before it reached its final destination, Su Shun’s office.

On September 25, draped from head to toe in the white cotton of mourning, Prince Kung arrived in Jehol. He headed directly to the coffin room, where he was blocked by guards and told to wait until Su Shun arrived. When Su Shun appeared—this was reported to me later—behind him stood the rest of the Gang of Eight.

Before Prince Kung had a chance to open his mouth, Su Shun ordered his arrest. The charge was disobeying the decree.

“I am here because a new decree has summoned me,” Prince Kung calmly explained.