The Dragon Queen

by William Andrews

  My husband laughed at me, making me feel even smaller. “I see with all those layers they tried to make you look bigger than you are,” he said. “Take them off and let me see what you look like underneath.”

  Slowly, I removed the layers of chima and my inner jacket so that all I wore was a chest band and inner pants. As I undressed, Gojong watched me with his silly grin. His boy’s mustache and goatee twitched. I began to tremble and my undergarments’ light fabric shook with me. Gojong said, “Take off your undergarments. They shake like an aspen leaf in the wind. Remove your chest band, too.”

  I did as he said and stood in front of him, naked as a newborn baby. I had never been naked in front of a man before, but I didn’t try to cover myself. The man before me was my husband, and I wanted to please him.

  My trembling was now a full-body shiver. The king threw back his head and laughed at me again. He shook his head. “Your breasts are small like plums before they are ripe. And you are skinny like a twig. I’m afraid I will break you! Come here on the bed with me.”

  The shaking in my legs made it hard to walk, but I forced myself to go to him. As I sat on the edge of the bed, he reached around me and cupped my breast with his hand, which caused me to jump a little. “Yes,” he said, “small like an unripe plum. Ah, well.” He pulled to make me lie back.

  What we did then wasn’t making love, not as I had imagined it would be. It was a clumsy, sloppy, painful affair that hurt and made me bleed. Many times, he tried to penetrate me, but it was too painful, and each time I begged him to stop and pushed him off. After several attempts, he rolled over on his back and said he was disappointed in me. “I’ll have to call for a concubine,” he said. “Go now.”

  I choked back tears as I put on my clothes and ran back to my quarters. When I got there, I threw myself on my bed and burst into tears. There in my bedchamber surrounded by luxury, I felt like a complete fraud. I was sure that my husband would never want to have me in his bed again, and that I would be an awful queen. I wanted to run away and never come back to the palace. But I knew it was impossible. I was the queen now and a wife, too. And as my uncle had said, I had to do my best. I prayed that I would soon get another chance to be a proper wife to my husband.

  In the weeks and months afterward, the king never mentioned that night, but he didn’t call me to his bedchamber, either. I was determined that the next time I was with him I would not push him away or ask him to stop. I wanted to give him a son as he had asked me to. I wanted to be a proper wife and queen. So I waited patiently for him to call for me.

  I had to learn how to be a queen to my subjects as well as a wife to my husband. Unlike being a wife, being a queen was not very hard. I was smart and observant and I started to believe that being queen was something I could do. And I had help. As it was before the wedding, I received instruction from Lady Min and Mister Euno about my role as queen and how to act toward dignitaries, the yangban, and my subjects in the lower classes. Mister Euno was deferential now. He addressed me as “Your Majesty,” and the short man always bowed low. When I made a mistake, he would say, “Majesty, no one can be expected to get it right every time.” I smiled to myself as I remembered how only months earlier, he would beat me with his bamboo switch when I made a mistake. I must admit it pleased me that he worried that someday I would seek revenge for having treated me like that.

  As for Lady Min, she addressed me as “Your Majesty,” too, but only when others were with us. And she never bowed low. Instead, she simply nodded her head. When we were alone, she treated me like the daughter-in-law that I was. She called me “Ja-young” instead of “Your Majesty” and she never bowed, not even with just her head. She often scolded me for progressing so slowly in my lessons with Mister Euno, even though he said I was learning fast.

  After my morning instructions, I was free to roam the palace grounds, which I did nearly every day with several servants a few steps behind and my lady’s maid—a prim, middle-aged woman named Han-sook who walked with small steps like a Japanese woman. I loved exploring the palace’s many halls, pavilions, courtyards, and gardens. A few months earlier, the Taewŏn-gun had commissioned new buildings and a large pond with an island and a cupola. As I strolled through the palace, laborers in straw hats dug foundations for the new buildings. Workers caked in mud dug the new pond with shovels and buckets. Two-man carts—they allowed no beasts inside the palace walls—hauled the dirt away. All around, gardeners dug holes for trees and plants. The palace was alive with activity, and I couldn’t believe this was my new home.

  Now that I was the queen, the servants, guards, and workers all paused from their work and bowed when I came near. Everyone addressed me as “Your Majesty,” even the Taewŏn-gun. At first, I must say, it was very strange. After all, only a few months earlier, I’d just been a girl who no one paid much attention to, reading books in my uncle’s bamboo grove. But now everyone noticed every little thing I did. Eventually I grew to accept it, although I often wished I could be that girl back in the bamboo grove.

  Most afternoons, the king and I would go to Sajeongjeon Hall, “Where the king thinks deeply before deciding what is right or wrong,” across a courtyard from the king’s quarters. There, we would attend meetings on the country’s affairs with the Taewŏn-gun and palace ministers. Sajeongjeon was smaller than other buildings and was less ornate. It housed the palace’s administrative offices and had several rooms separated by sliding latticed walls. In the main meeting room, the king sat at the head of a long, low table on a throne-like chair with gilded edges. I sat on a low chair well behind the king, facing away from the group because affairs of the state were for men only. The Taewŏn-gun sat on a cushion along one side of the table, and eight or ten ministers sat on the other side. We would all listen as messengers and scholars and dignitaries read letters and made presentations at the table’s far side. Then the Taewŏn-gun would discuss what to do about each case with his ministers. King Gojong rarely said anything and looked positively bored at the proceedings. Once he fell asleep, which embarrassed the presenter so much that the poor man begged for mercy for putting the king to sleep and ran out of the room. I never said anything during these meetings, but I listened carefully and studied how my father-in-law worked with his ministers, handled the proceedings, and made his decisions.

  For months after our wedding, we received wedding gifts that the royal secretary presented to us at the end of the meetings. People and countries from all over the world sent gifts. When it was time to receive wedding gifts, I would face the group since receiving gifts was not an official affair of the state. The servants brought them in, and the royal secretary read aloud the letters that came with them. There were hundreds of gifts from yangban and government officeholders eager to secure our favor. The Chinese sent a large jade sculpture of monks among mountains, waterfalls, ponds, and trees. They had inscribed the sculpture with a blessing for King Gojong and me. The Japanese sent a six-panel screen with a painted scene of fishing boats on the sea in front of a conical, snowcapped mountain and a red, setting sun. Queen Victoria of England sent an ornate sterling silver tea set, and Napoleon III of France sent a pair of etched leaded-crystal vases that everyone thought looked strange. We had heard about America’s struggle to recover from its bloody civil war, so we were surprised when the White House of Andrew Johnson sent a large wooden tobacco box filled with superb American tobacco. The top had tiny inlays depicting a frontiersman dressed in deerskin hunting an American bison. The scene was like nothing anyone had ever seen before.

  King Gojong was summarily unimpressed with the gifts except for the tobacco box with the bison scene. On the other hand, the Taewŏn-gun took particular interest in each gift as it was presented. He asked the scholars about the value of each one and what the gift’s hidden meanings were. He asked more than a few questions about the jade from China and even more about the screen from Japan. When the Taewŏn-gun finished asking his questions, guards hauled the gifts away to a storage house in the
back of the palace grounds.

  One day someone delivered a gift of a tapestry. The servants brought it in and unrolled it at the table’s far end. Compared to the other wedding gifts the king and I had received, it was nothing special. It was obviously old. The blue background fabric was slightly faded, and the years had frayed its edges. In the center was a two-headed dragon embroidered with what looked like gold thread. The dragon’s tongues curled up and its claws reached out.

  “What is this thing?” the Taewŏn-gun asked in his high-pitched voice. “Who is it from?”

  The royal secretary nodded. “Your Excellency, it was delivered early this morning at the gate. The courier only said that it is a wedding gift for the king and queen. He did not say who it was from, and the letter that came with it does not say, either.”

  The Taewŏn-gun studied the tapestry as the servants continued to hold it up at the head of the table. “I see,” the Taewŏn-gun said. “What does the letter say?”

  “That is a puzzle, too, Excellency,” the secretary said. “It simply says, ‘One Korea.’”

  These words caused something to stir inside me. It was as if a spark went off. “One Korea.” I stared at the dragon, and I had a strange feeling it was staring back at me.

  Suddenly King Gojong came to life. “What kind of gift is this?” he asked. “It’s a rag! Send it back.”

  “That will be difficult, Majesty,” the Taewŏn-gun said, still inspecting the tapestry, “since we do not know who sent it.”

  “Then burn it,” the king said, folding his arms and slouching in his chair again.

  As I looked at the tapestry, it seemed that the two-headed dragon was begging me to save it. I wanted to argue for keeping the tapestry, but I didn’t dare go against the king.

  Then the minister in charge of culture, Minister Kim, leaned forward. He was a thin elderly man with a long gray beard and pure-white eyebrows. He always spoke slowly, as if each of his words held great meaning. “Begging your pardons, Your Majesty . . . Your Excellency . . . ,” he said, nodding to each. “Would you allow me to take . . . a closer look?”

  “You may,” the Taewŏn-gun said.

  Minister Kim gathered his robe around him and slowly stepped to the tapestry. “Uh-huh,” he said as he stroked his beard with long, gnarled fingers. He produced a monocle from inside his robe and used it first to examine the blue fabric, then the gold dragon. “Hmmm,” he said. He tucked his monocle back inside his robe and returned to his cushion.

  “Excellency,” Minister Kim said, “I notice two things about this tapestry that give us a clue.”

  “Go ahead,” the Taewŏn-gun said.

  “First . . . there is the fabric. It is Korean silk. I would say with quite some certainty. It is not from China. Nor is it from Japan. No. It is clearly . . . Korean.”

  “And the other thing?” the Taewŏn-gun asked.

  “It is the dragon’s toes, Excellency,” the minister said. “You will see . . . there are five toes on each foot.”

  The Taewŏn-gun leaned forward and examined the dragon’s feet. “You are correct. That is interesting.”

  “What does it mean?” King Gojong asked. “Why is that important?”

  The minister nodded a slight bow. “Your Majesty, a five-toed dragon is only used for something belonging to . . . the king or queen.”

  The room went quiet for several seconds while everyone stared at the tapestry. Then King Gojong said, “I do not care. Five toes, three toes, or eight. It’s an insult. It is dirty and musty and worn. It is no more than a peasant’s rag. Whoever sent it should be beheaded. Don’t you agree, Father?”

  Minister Kim looked sideways at the Taewŏn-gun, who returned his look. “Minister,” the regent said, “have you ever seen anything like this before? A dragon with two heads?”

  The thin minister with the white eyebrows shook his head. “No, Excellency,” he replied.

  “Well,” the Taewŏn-gun said, “it is indeed old and worn and not much of a gift.”

  I didn’t know why I did what I did next. I had not said a single word in months of these meetings. No one had ever asked for my opinion, and I truly could not have expressed one if someone did. Anyway, I didn’t have to. The Taewŏn-gun had everything under control, and I had promised that I wouldn’t challenge him. Until then, it had been prudent to keep quiet. But the spark that I felt when I heard the words “One Korea” smoldered inside me. The dragon still stared at me and its claws reached out.

  “Excellency,” I said. All the heads snapped around to look at me. Even King Gojong raised his head and stared. I sucked in a breath. “If Your Excellency and Your Majesty do not mind, the tapestry pleases me. I would like to have it.”

  “But it’s old!” Gojong said. “It’s not fit to hang inside the palace walls.”

  I nodded my head. “I see your point, Your Majesty. And of course, you are right as always. But because I have no living ancestors, old things like this tapestry remind me of where I have come from. So if you please, Majesty, I would like to have it. It speaks to me. Think of it as a wedding gift for just me.”

  The king looked confused for a second and then blew out a laugh. He waved his hand. “Such a foolish thing. All right. If that’s what you want. Father?”

  The Taewŏn-gun hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I’d started talking. “It speaks to you,” he said as he stared, “this tapestry with a five-toed dragon?” Finally he nodded. “If you wish, Your Majesty,” he said.

  “Thank you, Excellency,” I replied.

  That night servants took the tapestry to my quarters, and I had them hang it on a wall in my study. I sat on a silk cushion and looked at it. It was indeed old and worn, and the king was right, it wasn’t fit for a palace. But as I stared at it, the two-headed dragon’s spirit seemed to talk to me. I sensed that the words “One Korea” meant something important, though I didn’t know what it was. But somewhere deep inside where I could not put my feelings into words, I believed that someday, I would be thankful I had saved the tapestry with the two-headed dragon.

  There was a knock on my door. “Enter,” I said.

  Han-sook, dressed in the yellow and blue hanbok that identified her as the queen’s lady’s maid, stepped in and bowed low. “Majesty,” my lady’s maid said, “the king wishes to have you in his bedchamber tonight.” Han-sook bowed again and backed out.

  As I looked at the two-headed dragon, I smiled. The king had not ordered me to his bed since our wedding night. Now months later I would go there again, and I would be his wife for the first time.

  ELEVEN

  One of my most important functions as queen was presiding over palace banquets and ceremonies. In my morning instructions, Mister Euno drilled me on the proper ways to act during these occasions. He taught me how to flatter those the Taewŏn-gun wanted on our side and how to snub those he did not. Mister Euno was especially clever about how to deliver the flattery and snubs for the desired effect. A lift of the chin here, a look away there. He had me practice them until I could do them just so. When I got it wrong, the Japanese man used his own precise expressions and words to convey his displeasure with me—diplomatically, of course, since I was the queen. And when I got it right, he complimented me and bowed to show his pleasure. When he did, my chest would fill with pride and he made me feel that I was playing a most important role in the success of my country.

  One day many months after my coronation, the Taewŏn-gun asked to meet with the king and me regarding an upcoming visit by some Japanese dignitaries. We met in the king’s study, a room Gojong rarely used. At one end was a low rosewood desk perched on a platform so that the king, sitting on embroidered silk cushions, was higher than the people he met with there. Several excellent silk screens depicting nature scenes lined the walls. A rosewood chest held stiff, unopened books that betrayed the king’s disregard for his studies.

  The king sat at his desk and I sat behind him when the head servant showed the Taewŏn-gun in. The regent lowered himself
on a cushion in front of us. He gave us a bow with a nod of his head, but below his high eyebrows, his eyes—a stern father’s eyes—were set to remind us both that he was in charge. From the corner of my eye, I could see that the king was uneasy in the presence of his father. He looked down at his desk and turned quiet.

  The Taewŏn-gun began. “Your Majesties,” he said, “in three days, we will have a meeting here in Gyeongbok with ministers from Japan. They will demand that we open our borders to them for trade. They will make promises and they will make threats. As you know, I want us to align with the Japanese to loosen the grip that China has over us. However, we must stay away from these treaties, and I do not want to give the Japanese too much. It is a delicate situation. We must handle it carefully.”

  The Taewŏn-gun studied us with needle-sharp eyes. “They have asked that you both attend the meeting so that the proceedings will have a royal endorsement,” he said. “But they are clever. What they really want is to see how the new king and queen of Korea will do in such situations, how you will act, what you will say. They are looking for a weakness that they can exploit. You must not give them one.”

  Gojong continued to look at his desk and didn’t respond, so I spoke up. “We understand, Excellency. Tell us what you want us to do.”

  The Taewŏn-gun said, “When you meet them, you must not show any emotions. Do not look pleased or displeased. In the meeting, you are to say nothing. If they ask you a question, do not respond. I will answer for you. Keep your eyes forward and do not look at them or anyone else. When the meeting is over, do the same as when you met them.”

  My father-in-law turned his head to the side and fixed his eyes on a scroll hanging on the wall. “There will be a reception afterward,” he said. “The Japanese are very cunning. They will try to talk to you, flatter you. Perhaps they will say something provocative to see how you respond. Do not take their bait. Short, simple statements are best. I will not be far away.”