“Have some dduk, too,” my uncle said.
I took a rice cake and bit into it. I hadn’t had anything sweet since I’d begun my training with Mister Euno, and it was delicious. I took another bite, and then two more and I had eaten the entire cake.
My uncle chuckled. “You are hungry. I can understand why.” He looked out the window with his eyes like polished black onyx. “Ja-young, you should know that this morning, I talked with Mister Euno. I told him you ran away because his training is too harsh. No one, not even someone strong like you, can do what he demands. He threatened to quit and report to Lady Min. But I assured him that I, too, had Her Excellency’s ear and that she would not approve of his methods for someone who might someday be queen. And so he agreed to my demands. Then I came to find you.”
He took a long look around the room at the stacks of books and said, “I brought you here because you like to read. I’ve seen you in the bamboo grove reading my most challenging books. Even I struggle with some of them. Yet you seem to enjoy them.”
“Yes, Uncle, I do. Thank you for letting me read them.”
“Those books are meant for men and scholars, and I should not let you read them. I do because I see something in you. You are beautiful like your mother. And though you do not say much, I can tell you have my brother’s intelligence. I must say, he was smarter than me, although I never admitted that to him.” My uncle grinned.
“And your mother,” he continued, “she understood the spirits of the animals and mountains and of the Han River and of the dead. She would say the most peculiar things about the world. I would think about what she said for days, and sometimes I would understand. She could see what others did not—until she started to see what wasn’t there at all.”
“I miss them,” I said.
My uncle nodded. “Yes, I do, too. But when I look at you, I see them both again. That’s why I was so pleased when Lady Min said she would recommend you. You have the heart of a queen, Ja-young. I believe you are worthy of the throne.”
“I do not want to be the queen,” I said. “I believe it would be terrible. I would rather stay with you and read books.”
My uncle nodded. “You are wise to see that side of it. Most do not. The crown is glorious to those who see it, but a burden to the one who wears it. If you become queen, your subjects will bow to you and call you ‘Your Majesty,’ all the while behind your back they will plot against you. Some will love you, some will hate you, and you won’t know which ones they are. They will tell you that you can do no wrong, yet in private, they will criticize your every move.”
He took a sip of tea and let his words sink in. Then he turned to me. “Ja-young, Korea is entering a challenging time. We must become an independent nation, but we face threats from many directions. It will be very hard to be the queen during this time. So if you don’t want to do this, I will talk to Lady Min. But hear me. I believe it is the right path for you. I believe with what you have—your beauty and intelligence, how you are able to see things—it is your duty to be Korea’s queen.”
My duty. My mother’s last words were about using my gifts to fulfill my duty. I had promised her that I would. Now my uncle was saying it, too. Maybe it was true. Maybe it was my duty to be queen. It seemed incredible—me, an orphan girl, the queen of Korea. But if I were to be queen, I had to learn to be strong, as Mister Euno said.
Then, as the warmth from the floor soothed my bones and the strong tea cleared my mind, I realized that I hadn’t known my uncle well. I had always been aloof, absorbed in my own world, and he was a busy man. We hadn’t spent much time together since I had come to the House of Gamgodang. But now I saw that he truly cared for me. For the first time, I felt a kinship with him. I saw that he was a lot like my father, true and honest, and I did not want to disappoint him.
I looked out toward the river. A lazy fog drifted over the water. Through the fog, I saw the ghost of my mother sitting on the bank and watching a red-crowned crane stalking prey. She looked up and smiled at me, not with the mad face of those last days, but with the smile I remembered from when I was a child. I looked at the stacks of books in the room, and there was the ghost of my father there reading a book. He, too, looked up at me and nodded the way he did when we had finished a chore. Their spirits were like hands pushing me up, giving me strength, urging me to go back to Mister Euno and learn his lessons. They were encouraging me to do my best in an audience with the Taewŏn-gun and King Gojong.
I set my teacup down and turned to my uncle. “Thank you, Uncle, for coming to find me and bringing me here and making me warm.” I lifted my chin. “I will go back with you and do my best in my lessons.”
He nodded and smiled at me.
“We should go right away,” I said. “Today Mister Euno wants to teach me the proper way to bow.”
SEVEN
“Five hundred eighty-one.” Thump. “Five hundred eighty-two.” Thump. Mister Euno counted as I sat on a cushion in the courtyard with my back straight repeating the correct way to lift a teacup to my lips. His top hat sat on the bench next to him, and with every count, he tapped his switch on the top of it like a drum.
“Five hundred eighty-six.” Thump. “Five hundred eighty-seven.” Thump.
After I’d run away, Mister Euno’s training was only slightly less harsh. I still had to hold his poses for hours and repeat his lessons until I was so tired I was practically senseless. And he still hit me with his switch when I did something wrong. But each day, the lessons grew a little easier, and I believed I was learning how to perform as he wanted me to.
Even so, I still wasn’t sure I wanted to go through with it. The spirits I had felt in the bookseller’s house were only a memory now, and doubt filled my heart. At night when I went to bed sore and exhausted, I cursed the gifts my mother and uncle said I had. I thought about scratching my face or cutting off my hair so that I wouldn’t be pretty anymore. But I had promised my uncle that I would do my best, and I didn’t want to disappoint him. So each morning I crawled out of bed when I heard Mister Euno get up. I followed him out to the courtyard and tried to learn his lessons.
“Five hundred ninety-two,” Mister Euno counted as he thumped his hat. “Five hundred ninety-three.”
A horse galloped along the street. When it stopped at our gate and a messenger called out, Mister Euno stopped counting. He told me I could rest. I followed him into the main room. Mr. Yang went out the front door to talk to the messenger. After a few minutes, the messenger galloped back toward the palace, and Mr. Yang came into the house with a rice-paper envelope closed with a red wax seal.
My uncle came out of his study, and my aunt came from in from her garden. Eun-ji came in from the kitchen. “What is it?” my uncle asked.
Mr. Yang pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose. He held out the envelope. “It is a message from His Excellency, the Taewŏn-gun.”
My uncle took the envelope and examined it. “Yes. It has His Excellency’s seal.” He broke the seal and read the message. He looked up and said, “His Excellency orders Ja-young to stand before the king tomorrow morning.” My aunt and Eun-ji brought their hands to their mouths. Mr. Yang gave me a look.
“But she isn’t ready!” Mister Euno protested, the small man’s mustache twitching more than usual. “She still has two more days of training.”
“It would not be wise to disobey the Taewŏn-gun’s orders,” my uncle said. “I will take Ja-young to the palace tomorrow.”
“Then we must work all night,” Mister Euno declared. “She has much to learn.” He grabbed my arm and turned me toward the courtyard.
“No,” my uncle said. The word filled the main room like a cannon. Mister Euno stopped and turned back. My uncle flashed his eyes at him. “Your job is done here, Mister Euno. Let her rest now.”
“But she is not ready!” Mister Euno said again. “She is not perfect.”
“You have said that,” my uncle replied, “and I say her training is done.”
I t
ook a step forward. “Uncle,” I said, “I am willing to work with Mister Euno all night. I want to present myself well.”
My uncle nodded. “Yes, I believe you would do that. But no, you are done.” I nodded and stepped back.
My uncle turned back to Mister Euno. “Thank you for your service, Mister Euno. Now you may go.”
Mister Euno huffed and did not bow as he should have to a higher-ranking man. He went out to the courtyard to gather his waistcoat and hat. Marching through the great room, he pushed his hat over his topknot and went out the door without a word.
My uncle turned to me. He said, “If you are tired, you will not perform well. Mister Euno has given you all you need, though I must say, I do not approve of his methods. You will do well in your audience with the Taewŏn-gun and the king. All you need now is rest.”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded. Truthfully, though I was willing to, I was thankful I didn’t have to work anymore that day. My uncle was right. I was exhausted from nearly two weeks of Mister Euno’s cruel lessons. I needed to rest.
“May I borrow one of your books, Uncle?” I asked. “I’m most relaxed when I’m reading.”
My uncle grinned and nodded. “Of course. I recommend Songs of Dragons Flying to Heaven. It was the first book written in Hangul. You will find it on the upper shelf in my study.”
“Thank you, Uncle. I will read that one.”
Ten minutes later, I sat on the Chinese bench in the bamboo grove with Songs of Dragons Flying to Heaven in my lap. The book was thick and bound with sheepskin. On the cover was stamped the title in Hangul and a small picture of a dragon. It was so peaceful in the garden. The sky was high and blue, and the spring air was comfortably warm. The bamboo they had left to produce new shoots was five feet tall. Days earlier, the plum blossoms had fallen, and petals covered the ground like patches of pink snow. Now the apple blossoms were in bloom, and the air was rich with their perfume. Behind the house, the stablemate groomed the horses and the gardener pulled weeds around the young cabbage plants. The maids and servants expertly went about their chores. I expected to see my aunt in her rose garden, watering and trimming the new canes. She delighted in growing roses and was proud of the lush blossoms she grew. Sometimes I helped her, and she would show me how to prune the bushes so they would yield the most blossoms. But I didn’t see her there this morning.
The warm sun soothed my sore bones and relaxed my aching muscles. Yet relaxed as I was, I sat straight with my shoulders back and down. I held my knees together. It was natural to sit that way now. Perhaps Mister Euno’s lessons had changed me after all.
Even so, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to meet the Taewŏn-gun, the all-powerful regent, and his son, the king of Korea. I was terrified that I would perform poorly or say something silly. Maybe the young king would think my nose was too small or that I was too skinny to be his wife. Maybe the Taewŏn-gun would think I was dim. Maybe all the work I had done over the past twelve days was for nothing.
I opened Songs of Dragons Flying to Heaven. I was surprised that my uncle had recommended a book in Hangul. Scholarly men and yangban like him shunned the written language of Korea, opting instead for books written in Chinese. They said Hangul was for chungin and sangmin—merchants and commoners. But my father, though he was a scholar like my uncle, encouraged me to learn to read both languages. I knew a few words in Japanese, too. My father had said I was smart with languages.
I turned to a page my uncle had marked by a silk ribbon. I read the poem there.
A tree with deep roots,
Because the wind sways it not,
Blossoms abundantly
And bears fruit.
Water from a deep spring,
Because a drought dries it not,
Becomes a stream
And flows to the sea.
I thought about what the words meant. I turned the pages to the introduction and read that the book was written four hundred years earlier by order of Sejong the Great, Chosŏn’s greatest king. I remembered from history books that King Sejong invented the Hangul written language and tried to move Korea away from Chinese culture toward independence. I remembered my uncle’s words from a week earlier about how Korea needed to become an independent nation, and I knew why my uncle recommended this book. A tree with deep roots . . . Water from a deep spring . . .
My eyelids grew heavy. I put the ribbon back at the page and closed the book. I put it aside. I lay on the bench and closed my eyes. I tried to picture myself dressed in a queen’s robe sitting on a throne. Before the image formed, I was asleep.
Eun-ji woke me in the middle of a nightmare about a tree’s roots holding me under a stream. It took a minute for me to realize where I was. The sun had moved to the other side of the bamboo grove, and the late afternoon coolness had set in.
“Yes?” I said, trying to focus on the plump woman before me.
“Your aunt wants you in the house,” Eun-ji said, trying to disguise a grin.
I followed Eun-ji into the house, and there, in the main room, my aunt held up a new hanbok. It had a yellow chima with a floral pattern on the hem and a light-blue jeogori closed with a dark-green bow.
My aunt sparkled. “I thought you should have a new hanbok for your audience with the king. We’ve been making it all the while you were working with Mister Euno. Here, try it on.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off it. “It’s beautiful.”
“Come, come!” my aunt said. “We had to rush to get it done when you were called early. Let’s see if it fits you. We’ll need to make the last adjustments before tomorrow.”
I stepped out of my regular clothes, and my aunt held my arm as Eun-ji pulled the chima over my legs and closed it across my chest. My aunt helped me into the jeogori. She and Eun-ji struck a matching pose with their hands on their chins as they examined the fit. “It’s close,” Eun-ji said. “A tuck here and there and it will be perfect.”
Eun-ji got some pins and as my aunt looked on, she pinned the hanbok where it needed adjustments. When they were done, I put on my regular clothes and said, “Thank you, ma’am.”
My aunt smiled. “The kitchen staff has prepared a meal for you. Go. Tomorrow is a very important day for the Mins.”
I smiled back at her and headed to the kitchen.
The next morning I awoke when the maids got up to prepare the house and the morning meal. I went to the kitchen for tea. The housemaids bowed to me. When I came near, they backed away with their eyes low.
After the morning meal, Eun-ji and my aunt helped me into my new hanbok and prepared my hair. They put it into the three-band braid customary for an unmarried woman and tied it off with the same red daenggi I wore for Lady Min.
My uncle waited for me at the door. My aunt, Eun-ji, and Mr. Yang watched as I walked across the main room to go to the palace with my uncle. When I got to the front door, I turned to them. Eun-ji and Mr. Yang bowed to me, which they had never done before. My aunt smiled and said, “You are beautiful.”
I drew a nervous breath, then walked with my uncle through the streets of Seoul for my audience with the Taewŏn-gun and King Gojong.
I had only ever seen Gyeongbok Palace from the pine trees outside palace walls. When we approached the Gwanghwamun Gate, my stomach started to jump. I had always been in awe of the massive gate with its colorful, complicated wooden brackets in the eaves. I never dreamed that someday I would go inside. We went to the entrance where my uncle showed the guard the Taewŏn-gun’s letter. The guard let us through into the palace grounds, and when I saw the palace from inside the walls, I thought I might be sick. It was as if I had stepped into a different world. All around were buildings with green-tiled turned-up roofs. The one in the center was the tallest building I had ever seen, with three pagoda roofs. There was a long pavilion with an extravagant two-roof pagoda. Guards holding long lances and wearing red tunics and tall black hats stood at each gate and each doorway. Groundskeepers swept the stone walkways. The persimmon trees were clouds of yel
low blossoms, and the cherry trees were clouds of white. I tried to take it all in but it was impossible. Surely I wasn’t worthy to rule over such a wondrous place. I felt small and foolish for agreeing to meet the king and the Taewŏn-gun.
I had to push myself to keep walking. My uncle led me through a pavilion gate into the biggest courtyard I’d ever seen. Knee-high rank stones lined the pathway. Towering above the courtyard was the tall building. I had to tilt my head back to see it all. We climbed two sets of stone steps to where Lady Min met us. My uncle and I bowed to her.
She pointed her fan at me. “Why does she wear that hanbok?” she huffed. “It looks pretentious.”
My uncle bowed again. “We wanted her to look her best for the king,” he said.
Lady Min shook her head. “Pray that the Taewŏn-gun doesn’t think she’s too fancy. Come with me.” We followed her to the building.
When we got inside, it was all I could do to not run back home. The room was almost impossible to take in. It was so big you could have fit my uncle’s entire house inside with plenty of room to spare. Holding up the ceiling were a dozen pillars so big two men couldn’t reach their arms around them. In the ceiling were thousands of brightly painted support beams and brackets similar to Gwanghwamun Gate. In the center of the room was a red dais, ten steps above the floor. On the dais was a high throne with a gilded top. Behind the throne was the most beautiful tapestry I had ever seen. In great detail, it depicted a lovely scene of trees and mountains, and in the sky, both the sun and moon.
My mouth was open as Lady Min led us toward the center of the room. As we approached the dais, Lady Min struck my arm with her fan. “Close your mouth,” she said. “You look like a monkey.” I snapped my mouth closed and focused my eyes straight ahead so the majestic room wouldn’t overwhelm me. I pushed my shoulders down and back and my buttocks in so that I glided as I walked. I brought my chin level with the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone sitting on the throne and someone else in a low chair next to it. I didn’t dare look at them.
The Dragon Queen Page 6