When we got to the dais, my uncle bowed low. As he bowed, I overlapped my hands at my waist, the left over the right as Mister Euno had taught me. I bowed my head and bent at the waist as I had practiced thousands of times. I bent my knees so they didn’t catch inside my chima and knelt just so on the stone floor so that my chima spread out around me. I brought my hands, still with the left over the right, out in front of me and placed them out on the floor. I closed my eyes, bent all the way down, and put my forehead on top of my hands. And there I stayed, waiting for someone to tell me I could stand.
Lady Min spoke first. “This is the girl I told you about. Her name is Min, Ja-young.”
“You may wait outside, Chul-jo,” a man said to my uncle. His voice was high but strong. “Leave us alone with the girl.”
“As you wish, Your Excellency,” my uncle said. I stayed on the stone floor as my uncle’s footsteps faded away behind me as he left.
“You say she is an orphan?” the Taewŏn-gun said with his high-pitched voice.
“Yes, husband,” Lady Min answered. “Chul-jo is her uncle. She has no paternal lineage. She lives in the House of Gamgodang.”
“Yes. A Min house,” the Taewŏn-gun said. “Have her stand so we can see her.”
Lady Min took my arm and helped me stand. I assumed Mister Euno’s proper standing posture but kept my eyes low.
The Taewŏn-gun came down from the dais and stood in front of me. All I could see was the hem of his robe, which was white with gold embroidery. My knees started to shake and I was afraid he would notice. I tried to breathe as Mister Euno had taught me, but my breaths came in shallow gulps.
“She is small,” he said. “But she has a pleasant face. Why do you recommend her, my wife?”
“Because she is no one,” Lady Min said. “She will not challenge your authority.”
“But like you, she is a Min.”
“That is true. But without a father, she is a Min in name only.”
“A Min is never a Min in name only,” the man said. He turned to the throne. “Your Majesty. Come see this girl. Tell me what you think.”
“I can see her from here,” a young man said from atop the dais. “I do not like her.”
“Come here, son, as I said,” the Taewŏn-gun demanded.
King Gojong came from the dais. He stood next to his father. The trembling in my knees spread to my entire body. My breathing was so difficult I thought I would faint. “She looks better up close,” the young king said. “But she is too small.”
“Yes,” the Taewŏn-gun said. “She is small.”
“May I go back now, Father?” the king said. The Taewŏn-gun waved his hand, and King Gojong returned to the dais. The Taewŏn-gun stayed in front of me. “What would you do if we made you queen, girl?” he asked.
Mister Euno had anticipated this question. He had made me memorize the answer and rehearse it hundreds of times. I kept my eyes low as Mister Euno had told me to. I steadied my nerves and said, “Your Excellency, I am nothing more than a humble orphan girl. If His Majesty honors me by making me his queen, my greatest honor would be to serve him and make a son for him.”
I could see Lady Min nod. The Taewŏn-gun nodded, too. “We have seen enough,” he said and went back up the dais.
Lady Min took my arm and led me out of the room into the sunlight where my uncle waited. She said, “The king has seen Ja-young, and we will let you know what his decision is.” She turned and went back into the throne room.
As my uncle and I walked out of Gyeongbok Palace, he asked, “What did the king say?”
“He thought I was too small,” I answered.
“Well,” my uncle said, “we will have to wait and see.”
EIGHT
After my meeting with the Taewŏn-gun and King Gojong, I was convinced the king didn’t like me and that his search for a queen would go on. And after seeing the inside of Gyeongbok Palace with its grand buildings, and after how rude King Gojong was, I didn’t care. I put the entire affair out of my mind. The twelve days of Mister Euno’s lessons had been unnecessary, though I didn’t feel it was a waste of time. I had learned how to act in front of royalty and the proper behavior for a yangban woman. And I’d learned something about myself, too. I had survived Mister Euno’s abuse and had performed in front of the king precisely as he told me I should.
When I got back to my uncle’s house, I settled into my regular routine—reading in the bamboo grove and helping my aunt in her rose garden. At first the household staff continued to treat me with deference, but after a few days, they went back to the way it was before and regarded me as just another household member. But the experience left me unsettled. If I wasn’t going to be the queen, then what would become of me? My mother had said I must use my gifts to speak for the spirits of our family, clan, and country. My uncle had said it, too. But I didn’t hear the spirits now, and I certainly could not speak for them if I didn’t hear them.
Then one morning I awoke and felt something was going to happen. It was like a day in late winter when the snow melts away and you feel spring is coming. It had rained the night before, and the morning was glorious. The sun had chased away the morning mist, birds sang their after-rain songs, the horses lazily chewed their oats, and the chickens strutted and pecked at the ground as chickens do. The household staff moved around the compound as if they were performers in a well-rehearsed play. The spirit of the day spoke to me. It said, “Remember me.”
I tried to push the spirit aside and go about my regular routine. I took one of my uncle’s books to the bamboo grove where new shoots were almost ready for harvesting again. And then directly above was a chattering screech. I looked into the sky, and there was a flock of red-crowned cranes heading to their breeding grounds in the north. I ran to an open area where the trees didn’t block my view. There must have been twenty of the white and black birds with red caps on their heads. They flew straight and strong, and my spirit soared with them. After they flew out of sight, I sat on the Chinese bench and the feeling I had about the day returned and was heavy on me.
A short while later, my uncle came through the front door and walked with purpose down the path to the bamboo grove. He had never before come to me there. He’d always had Mr. Yang or Eun-ji call me to the house if he wanted me. Now, my uncle came to me and sat on the bench. He folded his hands in his lap. He told me the palace had summoned him the day before to meet with the Taewŏn-gun. The regent had said that King Gojong had chosen me to be his wife—the new queen of Korea. There was only one condition—that with me as queen, the Mins would never challenge the House of Yi.
“I agreed to His Excellency’s terms,” my uncle said. “And you must agree to them, too. If you do, you will be queen and the wedding will be in twenty-one days.”
“I didn’t think the king liked me,” I said.
“The Taewŏn-gun was impressed with how you carried yourself. And he told me King Gojong was especially struck with your beauty. Apparently Mister Euno knew what he was doing after all.”
“So I am to be the queen?” I asked.
“You only need to promise to let the Taewŏn-gun run the country.”
“I would not challenge His Excellency,” I said, shaking my head. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“Yes, that is what you say now,” my uncle said. He turned to me. “Listen carefully, Ja-young. The Taewŏn-gun has many allies and is a ruthless man. Do not take this oath lightly. You will be queen, yes, but the Taewŏn-gun is the regent and he will rule. If you ever choose to challenge him, you must be very careful. He is powerful and cunning.”
We sat in silence for some time. I had only been inside the palace walls that one time and it had made me feel small. Now I would be its queen. I tried to picture myself dressed in a queen’s robe sitting on the gilded throne in the throne room. I tried to imagine what it would feel like to have everyone bow to me and call me “Majesty.” It seemed so strange, as if it were a fairy tale in a book happening to someone else.
But it was happening to me. I was about as ready for it as I was to be a fish.
After some time, I asked, “How does one be a queen?”
My uncle turned his onyx eyes to the grove and studied it as if he could read the answer to my question among the bamboo shoots. “Ja-young,” he said finally, “you are an intelligent woman and you are strong. I am sure you will quickly learn how to be a queen. And when you do, you will have a choice. You can wear the crown on your head and sit silently on the throne like the stones in the palace walls. Or you can wear the crown on your heart and be like a dragon who rules the forest. If you choose to be a stone, you must make yourself dead. If you choose to be a dragon, you must be alert and quick because many will want to slay you.”
My uncle continued. “This afternoon you must make your promise to the Taewŏn-gun. But in time, that promise will be of little consequence. As I’ve told you before, Korea faces far greater challenges than age-old fights between the clans. The Taewŏn-gun thinks that ignoring them will make them go away. But they will not go away, and I fear for our country and our people. If you choose to be the dragon queen, you must find the truth for Korea and fight for it as a dragon would. It will be the more difficult choice.”
“I hope I choose what is right,” I said.
He turned to me and looked at me as my father used to do. “Well,” he said, “in the end, a queen is first a person. Do as all people must do. Do your best.” He gave me a smile and went back to the house.
After my uncle disappeared inside the house, everything looked different. The bamboo shoots seemed sharper and whiter, like an angry dog’s fangs. The earthy smell from the stable was as strong as if I were there with the horses. The chicken’s clucks sounded like a fox was just outside the coop. The sounds, the smells, the colors overwhelmed me. I turned my back to the house. Then, I didn’t know why, but I cried.
That afternoon I bowed low to the Taewŏn-gun and made my promise, and he issued a proclamation that I was to be Korea’s new queen.
After the Taewŏn-gun issued his proclamation, it seemed like the entire country went to work. That day, the palace sent dozens of messengers on fast horses to the entire peninsula to announce that I would be the new queen. They dispatched a ship straightaway to Shanghai to fetch silk, spices, and flowers for the ceremony. They sent oxcarts to Taegu for garlic and the vegetables that grew in the temperate climate there. They sent more carts to the Port of Pusan for herring, anchovies, squid, and tuna from the East Sea. Farmers from the countryside brought in cattle and pigs so the palace chefs could select the fattest ones for slaughter. They employed artists and calligraphers to commemorate the affair. They commissioned dancers and musicians to prepare a pageant. Writers wrote poems and plays, and actors rehearsed them. It seemed like a hundred tailors came into the palace to make the robes for the ceremony. They had me stand on a stool for hours as they measured every inch of me and carefully recorded each measurement in a book.
As for me, I spent my days in the queen’s quarters, though I was not yet the queen. It was a building not far from the throne room, much less elaborate than that great room, but far more so than any place I had ever lived in. It had two rooms. There was a bedchamber with a bed off the floor the likes of which I had never slept on before. It was big enough for four people and was covered with layers of fine silk sheets and blankets. Separated from the sleeping room by rice-paper walls was a study of sorts. It was grander than the sleeping quarters, and it was there I received my visitors. Sliding latticed walls lined the room. Opposite the entrance was a raised floor two steps above the rest of the room and polished with soybean oil. There was a low mahogany table where I could sit on an embroidered silk cushion with gold tassels when visitors came in. All around were celadon pots, brass statues, and beautiful inked paintings of nature scenes.
It was there where I met the tailors and sat for artists as they painted my portrait. Maids and servants far more skilled than my uncle’s attended to my every wish. Most of the time, I was in my study under the direction of Lady Min and Mister Euno, learning the royal court’s ways. Mister Euno was not harsh now, but his lessons were not any easier and I had much to learn. He instructed me on the proper way to greet foreign dignitaries, how to preside over the royal court, how to address the king, and how a queen should receive her subjects. I learned about foods that I’d never heard of before, and the proper ways to eat them. I learned how to preside over a tea ceremony. There were lessons on what to say in specific situations, how to answer questions, and what questions I myself should ask. And just like in the courtyard of my uncle’s house, I rehearsed each lesson hundreds of times until I could do them just so.
One day, Lady Min came into my quarters with two of her maids and the royal perruquier. The wigmaker was a tall, thin man with a pointed nose and a closely trimmed goatee. He bowed to me—as everyone did now—with only a half bow, since they hadn’t yet crowned me queen. I sat in a chair as he measured my head and examined my hair. When he was done, he said, “She is small. Perhaps we should make a lesser headpiece than is customary for a royal wedding.”
“No,” Lady Min replied, fanning herself. “Make it grander, instead.”
“But, Your Excellency, she will not be able to bear it.”
“She will,” Lady Min said simply.
“As you wish, my lady,” the perruquier said, and bowed out of the room with his assistants.
After the wigmaker left, Lady Min dismissed her maids. Being alone with her made me uneasy, and I had to remind myself that I did not have to bow to her or even lower my eyes. She wore a red day-hanbok and the same jokduri headpiece of a married court lady as she wore when I saw her at my uncle’s house. She sat on a cushion and I sat alongside her.
She lifted her chin but kept her eyes on the room, instead of on me. She fanned herself. “Soon you will be queen,” she said. “You will be the first Min to sit on the throne in one hundred years. It is a great opportunity for our clan.”
“Opportunity, Your Excellency?” I asked.
“Yes, of course! The House of Yi has ruled since King Taejo, and they have always treated our clan poorly. The Yis take the highest positions in government and impose stiff taxes on us. They are arrogant and pretentious, and their corruption keeps our country poor. But now you will sit on the throne with them.”
She stopped fanning herself and looked at me. “Mister Euno tells me you are strong. And your uncle says you are intelligent and that you read scholarly books. My son does not take his studies seriously,” she said, fanning herself again. “He prefers to spend his time in the company of his friends playing games. And he is weak. When you become queen, you will have the power to make things right. I will help you.”
“But my lady, I promised your husband that I will not challenge his authority.”
Lady Min’s jaw stiffened and she fanned herself faster. “Yes, my husband,” she replied. “You made a promise, but you are young. You have no way of understanding the promise you made. And some promises are not worth keeping.”
She stood from her cushion and I stood with her. She closed her fan and tapped my head with it. “Keep this conversation to yourself. Do well in the ceremony. Be a good wife to my son. Make a prince for him. For the time being, do what my husband tells you to do. And though you are the queen, hold your tongue with him. Our time will come soon enough.”
Lady Min called her maids. As the maids came in, she pointed her fan at me, “Remember, your father was a Min and it was I who put you on the throne. Your duty is to your father and me, and to your clan.” Lady Min lifted her hanbok and left the room as her maids followed close behind.
The next day, three tailors and their assistants fitted my wedding robe on me. It was spectacular. There were five layers of petticoats under the chima and two layers of sok jeogori under the jacket. The robe was dark blue. With fine silk thread, they had embroidered one hundred fifty-six pairs of pheasants in nine rows. The robe’s red borders along the neckline, front
opening, cuffs, and hemline had thirty dragons imprinted in gold leaf. Underneath the robe was a red silk chima with a long train that flowed out, imprinted with a phoenix and clouds. Attached to the chest, back, and shoulders were the queen’s medallions with more five-toed dragons. For my feet, there were indigo-blue silk shoes decorated with clouds and the same dragon motif as on the robe. Altogether, the petticoats, jeogori, chima, and robe were so heavy, I could barely stand when they put it on me. I worried that I would not be able to walk or bow or do anything I had to do during the wedding ceremony.
As the tailors made their adjustments, the Taewŏn-gun came in. The tailors and their assistants backed away and bowed low. “Leave me with Ja-young,” the Taewŏn-gun said. The others quickly left and I stood in the middle of the room dressed in my regalia.
The Taewŏn-gun was not tall and was slightly round in his face and body. He had a medium-length mustache and goatee. Over his sharp, keen eyes, his eyebrows rode high as if he was always searching for something.
He sat in a chair, and in my heavy clothes, I struggled to sit on a cushion in front of him. Though I would be queen soon, I kept my eyes low to the great man who until a few weeks earlier, I hadn’t dreamed I would ever meet.
He cleared his throat. Then he said in his high-pitched voice, “Ja-young, in a few days, you will be queen. You will rule alongside my son. But you are young, only a girl. And you are uneducated. You do not know what our people need or how a government works. You don’t know about foreigners with strange ideas who threaten who we are. We must stay away from them. It is all very complicated and something you need not worry about. I have served in the government for a long time. I know what’s right for our country and I have plans. I agreed to let you be queen because of your beauty and poise. You and my son will be good figureheads for our country as long as you let me run it.”
The Dragon Queen Page 7