Empress Orchid (38 page)

The more I thought about this dubious man, the more restless I grew. “Li Lien-ying,” I whispered.

My eunuch didn’t answer. This was unusual. Li Lien-ying was a light sleeper. He could hear a leaf falling from a tree outside the window. What was wrong with him? I remembered that he had been invited by the head monk to have tea after dinner.

“Li—Li Lien-ying!” I sat up and saw him in the corner.

He was sleeping like a rock. Could there have been something in the tea the head monk had served?

I slipped into my robe and crossed the room. I shook the eunuch, but he responded with loud snoring. Maybe he was just too tired.

I decided to go out and check the courtyard. I was fearful, but it was scarier to be kept in doubt.

The moon was bright. The courtyard looked like it had been spread with a coat of salt. The scent of laurel was carried by the wind. Just as I thought how peaceful it was, I saw a shadow duck behind an arched door. Had my eyes been fooled by the moonlight? By my nerves?

I went back to the room and closed the door. I climbed into bed and peeked through a window. In front of me was a tree with a thick trunk. In the dark, the trunk kept changing its shape. One moment it looked like it grew a belly, the next an arm.

My eyes weren’t fooling me. There were people in the courtyard. They were hiding behind the trees.

I woke Nuharoo and explained what I saw.

“You see a soldier behind every blade of grass,” Nuharoo complained, putting on her clothes.

While I dressed Tung Chih, Nuharoo went to wake Li Lien-ying. “The slave must be drunk,” she said. “He won’t wake up.”

“Something’s wrong, Nuharoo.”

I slapped Li’s face and eventually he woke up. When he tried to walk, however, his legs wobbled. We were shocked.

“Get ready to run,” I said.

“Where can we go?” Nuharoo panicked.

We had no knowledge of the area. Even if we managed to get out of the temple, we could easily lose our way on the mountain. If we weren’t caught, we might starve to death. But what would happen if we remained here? By now I had no doubt that the head monk was Su Shun’s man. I should have insisted on keeping the bearers near.

I told Tung Chih to hold on to me when I opened the door.

The mountain was beginning to show its shape in the predawn light. The wind in the pines sounded like a rushing tide. The four of us walked down a hallway and passed through an arched gate. We followed a barely visible path. “This should lead us to the foot of the mountain,” I said, although I was not sure.

We didn’t get far before we heard the sounds of pursuit.

“Look, Yehonala, you’ve gotten us in trouble,” Nuharoo cried. “We could have called the monks for help if we had stayed in the temple.”

I pulled Nuharoo along with me as Li Lien-ying struggled to stay on his feet while carrying Tung Chih on his back. We walked as fast as we could. Suddenly the path was blocked by a group of masked men.

“Give them what they want,” I said to Nuharoo, assuming they were bandits.

The men made no sound but moved in closer around us.

“Here, take our jewelry,” I said. “Take it all and let us go!”

But the men wanted none of it. They jumped us and tied us with ropes. They stuck wads of cloth in our mouths and blindfolded us.

I was inside a jute sack, tied to a pole and carried on men’s shoulders. The blindfold fell off during my struggle, although my mouth was still stuffed with cloth. I could see light through the coarse weave of the sack. The men walked jerkily downward through the hills, and I guessed that they were not bandits, who would have had strong legs for rough terrain like this.

I had trusted that Prince Kung would protect us, but it seemed that Su Shun had outwitted him. There was no way I could escape if this was meant to be.

I believed that Nuharoo had a chance to live, but did Tung Chih? How amazingly easy it was for Su Shun to conduct a coup d’état! No
army, no weapons, not a drop of blood shed, just a few men dressed as bandits. Our government was a paper dragon made only for parades. The Era of Well-Omened Happiness was a joke. How would Emperor Hsien Feng like it now that Su Shun revealed what he was made of!

Branches beat against the sack. In darkness I searched for sounds of Tung Chih. There was nothing. Was I to be executed? I dared not allow myself to reflect on anything. Based on the angle of the pole, I could tell that the ground had become less steep.

Without warning I was dropped and knocked into something like a tree stump. My head hit a hard surface and the pain was excruciating. I heard men talking, then heavy steps approaching. I was dragged through dry leaves and tossed into what felt like a ditch.

The cloth in my mouth was soaked with saliva and it finally fell out. I dared not scream for help, fearing they would come and finish me sooner. I tried to prepare myself for the worst, but a crushing feeling came over me:
I can’t die without knowing where Tung Chih is!
I tried to tear the sack with my teeth, but with my hands tied behind me it was hopeless.

I heard footsteps over the dry leaves. Someone approached and stopped next to me. I tried to move my legs and get into a better position to defend myself from inside the sack, but they were tied too.

I could hear the sound of a man’s breathing.

“For the sake of Heaven, spare my son!” I cried out and then cringed. I imagined his knife slashing the sack and the cold metal ripping into my flesh.

It didn’t come. Instead I heard more footsteps and the clash of metal weapons. There was a muted cry, and then something, a body, fell on me.

For a moment there was quiet. Then in the distance came the sound of hooves and shouting men.

I couldn’t make up my mind whether to remain silent or call out for help. What if they were Su Shun’s men who had come to make sure I was dead? But what if they were Prince Kung’s men? How would I get anyone to pay attention to a jute sack lying in a ditch under a body?

“Tung Chih! Tung Chih!” I screamed.

A moment later a knife slashed open the sack and I was breathing in the sunlight.

Holding the knife was a soldier in the uniform of the Imperial Guards. He stood in front of me, stunned. “Your Majesty!” He threw himself on the ground.

Removing the ropes from my arms and legs, I told him, “Rise and tell me who sent you.”

The soldier rose and pointed behind him. A few yards away, a man on a horse turned his head.

“Yung Lu!”

He dismounted and dropped to his knees.

“I was almost a ghost!” I cried. “Or am I already one?”

“Speak, so I will know, Your Majesty,” said Yung Lu.

I broke down.

“Your Majesty,” he murmured, “it is Heaven’s will that you survived.” He wiped sweat from his forehead.

I tried to climb out of the ditch, but my knees betrayed me and I collapsed.

He took me by the arm.

The touch of his hand made me sob like a child. “I could have been a hungry ghost,” I said. “I have had little sleep, nothing to eat the whole day, not a drop of water to drink. I am not even dressed properly. My shoes are gone. If I had met the Imperial ancestors, they would have been too embarrassed to receive me.”

He squatted next to me. “It is over, Your Majesty.”

“Was Su Shun behind this?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Where is the assassin?”

Yung Lu pointed his chin back at the ditch. The dead man there had half his face buried in the dirt, but I recognized the fat body. It was the head monk.

I asked where Tung Chih and Nuharoo were. Yung Lu told me that they had been rescued as well and were continuing their journey to Peking. Yung Lu had already sent messengers to Su Shun with news that I had been found dead, but it would take days for that false report to reach him, which was all part of Prince Kung’s plan.

Yung Lu placed me in a carriage and escorted me himself. We took a shorter route and arrived in Peking well ahead of Su Shun and his procession.

WAITING FOR ME inside the Forbidden City, Prince Kung was relieved when he saw that I was unharmed. “Rumors of your death traveled faster than our messengers,” he said, greeting me. “I have been tortured by worry.”

In tears, we bowed to each other.

“Maybe your brother did want to take me with him,” I said, still feeling a bit hurt.

“But he changed his mind at the last minute, didn’t he? He might have aided your rescue in Heaven.” Prince Kung paused. “I am sure he was not in his right mind when he appointed Su Shun.”

“True.”

Prince Kung looked me up and down and then smiled. “Welcome home, sister-in-law. You’ve had a tough journey.”

“You too,” I said, and noticed that his hat looked too big for him. He kept pushing back the brim with his hand so the hat wouldn’t cover his eyebrows. “I lost weight, but I didn’t expect my head to shrink.” He laughed.

When I asked about the head monk, Prince Kung explained that the assassin was known as the Buddha’s Palm—his power had been as unlimited as the palm of Buddha, said to be capable of “covering everything.” In folklore, when the Monkey King of Magic thinks he has escaped after cartwheeling thousands of miles, he finds that he has landed in that almighty palm. My head was the only one the assassin had failed to collect in his ornamental box.

Prince Kung and I sat down to talk—and so began our long working relationship. He was a man of broad perspective, although his temper would continue to flare over the years. He had been raised like Hsien Feng and could be just as spoiled and impatient. Many times I had to ignore his insensitivity and selfishness. He unintentionally humiliated me more than once in front of the court. I could have protested, but I told myself that I must learn to take Kung’s flaws along with his virtues. His strengths were greater than his brothers’, and not insignificant. He respected reality and was open to different opinions. We needed each other at this moment. As a Manchu he had been taught that a woman’s place was in her bedroom, but he couldn’t ignore me totally. Without my support he would have no legitimacy.

As Prince Kung and I got to know each other better, we were able to relax. I let him know that I had no interest in power itself, and that all I wanted was to help Tung Chih succeed. It was wonderful that we shared the same vision. We fought at times, but we always managed to come out of our battles united. To stabilize the new court, we became each other’s figurehead and decoration.

Dancing around Prince Kung’s pride, I encouraged his enthusiasm and ambitions. I believed that if Nuharoo and I were humble with him, he would be humble with Tung Chih. We practiced the Confucian principles of the family and both benefited.

I played my part, although I would grow tired of putting on a theatrical mask every day. I had to pretend that I was absolutely helpless without the court. My ministers functioned only when they believed that they were my saviors. My ideas would not have gone far if I hadn’t presented them as their “five-year-old lord’s idea.” In order to direct, I learned to offer an image that I was being directed.

It took Nuharoo, Tung Chih and the rest of the Parade of Happiness five more days to arrive in Peking. By the time they reached the Gate of Zenith, the men and horses were so exhausted that they looked like a defeated army. Their flags were torn and their shoes worn through. With dirt-caked, hairy faces, the palanquin bearers dragged their blistered feet. The guards were spiritless and out of formation.

I imagined Su Shun and his Parade of Sorrow, scheduled to arrive in a few more days. The weight of Hsien Feng’s coffin must be crushing the shoulders of the bearers. By now Su Shun must have received the news of my execution and be eager to reach Peking.

The joy of making it home brought great energy to the Parade of
Happiness. At the Forbidden City gate, the whole retinue re-formed. Men straightened their backs and stuck out their chests with pride when entering. Nobody seemed to know anything about what had happened. Citizens lined up on either side of the entrance and clapped their hands. The crowd cheered at the sight of the Imperial palanquins. No one knew that the person in my chair was not me but my eunuch Li Lien-ying.

Nuharoo celebrated the end of the journey by having three baths in a row. The maid reported that she almost drowned in the tub because she fell asleep. I called on Rong and her young son. We visited our mother and brother. I invited Mother to move into the palace and live with me so I could take care of her, but she declined, preferring to stay where she was, in a quiet house in a small lane behind the Forbidden City. I didn’t insist. If she lived with me, she would have to get permission every time she wanted to go shopping or visit her friends. Her activities would be restricted to her rooms and garden, and she would not be allowed to cook her own meals. I wanted to spend more time with Mother, but I had to meet with Nuharoo about our plan regarding Su Shun.

“Unless there is good news, I do not wish to hear it,” Nuharoo warned. “The hard journey has cut my longevity short enough.”

I stood by Nuharoo’s half-broken door. The foreigners had damaged everything in sight. Her mirror was scratched. Her golden carvings were gone, and so were the embroideries from the walls. Her closets were empty and her bed had men’s footprints on it. There were still pieces of glass on the floor. Her art collections were missing. The gardens were ruined. The fish, birds, peacocks and parrots had all died.

“Misery is the work of the mind,” Nuharoo said as she took a sip of her tea. “Master it and you will feel nothing but happiness. The beauty of my nails has not been damaged, because they stayed inside the protectors.”

I looked at her and recalled how she had sat inside the palanquin in a rain-soaked robe for days on end. I knew how hard that had been because I had experienced it myself. The wet cushions made me feel like I was sitting in urine. I didn’t know whether I should admire Nuharoo’s effort to maintain her dignity. I had wanted to get off the chair to walk during the journey. Nuharoo had stopped me. “Bearers are made to carry you,” she insisted. I explained that I was sick of having a wet butt: “I’ve got to air it somehow!”

I remembered that she was silent, but her expression clearly told me
that she disapproved of my behavior. She was shocked when I finally decided to get out and walk side by side with the bearers. She let me know that she felt insulted, which forced me back inside the palanquin.

“Don’t look at me as if you have discovered a new star in the sky,” she said, fastening her hair into a base. “Let me share with you a Buddhist’s teaching: To truly have something is to not have it at all.”

It didn’t make any sense to me.

She shook her head in pity.

“Good night and rest well, Nuharoo.”

She nodded. “Send Tung Chih over, would you?”

I desperately wanted to spend the night with my son after being separated for so long. But I knew Nuharoo. When it came to Tung Chih, her will ruled. I stood no chance. “May I send him after his bath?”

“Fine,” she said, and I made my exit.

“Don’t try to climb high, Yehonala,” her voice came from behind. “Embrace the universe and embrace what comes to you. There is no significance in fighting.”

Leaving me to finish the last part of the decree indicting Su Shun, Prince Kung departed Peking for Miyun. The town was fifty miles from the capital and the procession’s last stop before it. Su Shun and Hsien Feng’s coffin were scheduled to arrive at Miyun by early afternoon.

Yung Lu was ordered to go back to Su Shun and remain close to him. Su Shun assumed that everything was going the way he had planned and that I, his biggest obstacle, had been removed.

Su Shun was found drunk when the procession reached Miyun. He was so excited by his own prospects that he had already begun celebrating with his cabinet. Local prostitutes were seen running around the Imperial coffin stealing ornaments. When Su Shun was greeted by General Sheng Pao at the gateway of Miyun, he announced my death with great elation.

Receiving a cold response from Sheng Pao, Su Shun looked around and noticed Prince Kung, who stood not far from the general. Su Shun ordered Sheng Pao to remove Prince Kung, but Sheng Pao remained where he was.

Su Shun turned to Yung Lu, who stood behind him. Yung Lu made no move either.

“Guards!” Su Shun shouted. “Take the traitor down!”

“Have you a decree to do so?” Prince Kung asked.

“My word is the decree” was Su Shun’s reply.

Prince Kung took a step back, and General Sheng Pao and Yung Lu moved forward.

Su Shun woke up to what he faced. “Don’t you dare. I am appointed by His Majesty. I am the will of Emperor Hsien Feng!”

Imperial Guards formed a circle around Su Shun and his men.

Su Shun shouted, “I’ll hang you, all of you!”

At a signal from Prince Kung, Sheng Pao and Yung Lu took Su Shun by the arms. Su Shun struggled and called for Prince Yee’s help.

Prince Yee came running with his guards, but Yung Lu’s men intercepted them.

From his sleeve Prince Kung took a yellow decree. “Whoever dares to contest the order of Emperor Tung Chih will be put to death.”

While Yung Lu disarmed Su Shun’s men, Prince Kung read what I had drafted: “Emperor Tung Chih instructs that Su Shun be arrested immediately. Su Shun has been found responsible for organizing a coup d’état.”

Locked up in a cage on wheels, Su Shun looked like a circus beast when the Parade of Sorrow resumed its journey from Miyun to Peking. In the name of my son I informed the governors of all the states and provinces of Su Shun’s arrest and his removal from office. I told Prince Kung that I considered it crucial to win the moral ground as well. I needed to know the feelings of my governors in order to reassert stability. If there was confusion, I wanted to take care of it right away. An-te-hai helped me with the task, even though he had been released from the water chamber of the Imperial prison only days before. He was wrapped in bandages but was happy.

Comments regarding the arrest of Su Shun came from all over China. I was greatly relieved that the majority of the governors sided with me. To those in doubt, I encouraged honesty. I made it clear that I would like to be approached with the absolute truth no matter how it might contradict my personal view of Su Shun. I wanted the governors to know that I was prepared to listen and was more than willing to make my decision regarding Su Shun’s punishment based on their recommendations.

Shortly afterward two grand secretaries, who represented civil justice and were originally in Su Shun’s camp, denounced Su Shun. It was then that General Tseng Kuo-fan and the Chinese ministers and governors expressed their support for me. I had called them the fence-sitters, because they had carefully observed both sides before committing
themselves. Tseng Kuo-fan criticized Su Shun’s “gross historical impropriety.” Following Tseng, governors from the northern provinces came forward. They voiced their disagreement regarding Su Shun’s exclusion of Prince Kung and proposed that power be vested in Empress Nuharoo and me.

A trial began as soon as Su Shun arrived in Peking. It was presided over by Prince Kung. Su Shun and the rest of the Gang of Eight were found guilty of subversion of the state, which was one of the ten abominations of Ch’ing law, second only to rebellion. Su Shun was also found guilty of crimes against the family and the virtue of society. In the decree I had composed, I pronounced him “abominable, unpardonable and irredeemable.”

Prince Yee was “granted” a rope and was “permitted” to hang himself. He was escorted to a special room where a beam and a stool awaited. In the room was a servant who would assist Yee to climb onto the stool in case his legs failed him. The servant was also expected to kick the stool out from under Prince Yee once his head was in the noose.

It sickened me to order such a sentence, but I realized I had no choice.

Over the next few days, more of Su Shun’s allies, including Chief Eunuch Shim, were stripped of their power and rank. Shim was sentenced to death by whipping, but I interceded on his behalf. I told the court that I believed the new era should begin in mercy.

Su Shun’s sons were beheaded, but I spared his daughter, bending the law in her case. She was a bright girl who once served me as a librarian. Nothing like her father, she was kind and reserved. Although I didn’t wish to continue our friendship, I felt she deserved to live. Su Shun’s eunuchs were all sentenced to death by whipping. They were the scapegoats, of course, but terror was needed in order to make a statement.

As for Su Shun himself, death by dismemberment was recommended by the judicial authority. But I determined that it be commuted. “Although Su Shun fully deserves the punishment,” my decree to the nation read, “we cannot make up our mind to impose the extreme penalty. Therefore, in token of our leniency, we sentence him to immediate decapitation.”

Three days before Su Shun’s execution a riot broke out in a district of Peking where many of his loyalists lived. The complaint was heard that Su Shun was Emperor Hsien Feng’s appointed minister. “If Su Shun has
no virtue whatsoever and deserves such a harsh death, should we doubt His Late Majesty’s wisdom? Or should we suspect that His Majesty’s will is being violated?”

Yung Lu brought the riot under control. I demanded that Prince Kung and Yung Lu secure Su Shun’s execution. I pointed out that we must be extremely careful because Manchu Bannermen had in the past rescued the condemned as a way to start a rebellion.

Prince Kung paid little attention to my concerns. In his eyes, Su Shun was already dead. Believing that he had the full support of the people, Prince Kung proposed to change the place of execution from the vegetable market to the bigger livestock market, a space that could accommodate a crowd of ten thousand.

Feeling uneasy about the plans, I decided to investigate the background of the executioner. I sent An-te-hai and Li Lien-ying to do the job, and they returned quickly with distressing news. There was evidence that the executioner had already been bribed.

The man appointed by the court to behead Su Shun went by the name of One-Cough—he performed his job with reflexive speed. I had no idea that it was a tradition to bribe the executioner. In order to make a profit, the members of this gruesome trade, from the executioner down to the ax sharpener, worked in concert.