He turned back to the king and me. “It is very important that you both do well. Mister Euno will instruct you, Majesty,” he said to me. The Taewŏn-gun gave a dark look to his son. “And I will instruct the king.”
“Yes, Excellency,” I said. Gojong continued to look at his desk.
After the Taewŏn-gun left, the king said, “He treats me like a child, yet I am the king.”
“Yes, you are the king, my husband,” I said. “But I think for now, we should do what your father says.”
“My father,” Gojong said. He gave me a look that was both fearful and sad. “Leave me now.”
I bowed my head to him and went back to my quarters.
The meeting with the Japanese took place in Sajeongjeon Hall, in the same room where we had our afternoon meetings. Han-sook and my maids had spent all morning dressing me in the hanbok I wore for diplomatic engagements. It was not as elaborate as the one I wore for grand palace ceremonies, but it was impressive nevertheless. The jeogori was deep red with long, full sleeves. There was a brocade chima embroidered with green and blue cranes. Underneath it all, I wore several layers of undergarments to fill me out. On my head, I wore an intricate gold crown. These many layers were dreadfully hot in the late summer, but I was determined not to let my discomfort show.
The king’s outfit was more modest than mine. He wore his official robe that he used for state affairs. It was royal red with a long front apron hemmed in gold thread.
Together we must have made a striking pair, although I must say, Gojong looked utterly miserable at having to put on such a show. He twitched and pulled at his robe and fanned himself nervously. He stared at the ground.
When they came in, the Japanese dignitaries were wearing Western-style suits with starched upturned collars, silk ties, and coats with tails and broad lapels. They all had top hats like the one Mister Euno wore. When the secretary introduced the lead Japanese delegate—an older man with a thick gray mustache and long chin—he studied King Gojong for several seconds. Then he set his gaze on me. I held his eyes and looked neither pleased nor displeased. I did the same with others in the Japanese delegation.
As far as I could tell, the meeting went well. The Japanese were not at all subtle. They didn’t present their goods for trade and did not talk about how trade would benefit us. Instead, they made demands and threats that the Taewŏn-gun and his ministers respectfully listened to. All the while, I sat behind the king with my back straight, chin high, and my hands in my lap. I sat sideways to the group so I did not make eye contact with anyone. The king, however, slouched in his chair as if he wanted to be somewhere else.
When the head Japanese diplomat asked what Gojong thought of their proposal, the king said, “I’m the king and you don’t scare me. I think—”
The Taewŏn-gun cut his son off. “Our distinguished guests come here in peace, Majesty,” he said with a glance at the king. “Their proposal intends to strengthen the bond between us.” He turned to the Japanese delegation. “We will have to discuss your ideas among ourselves,” he said with a diplomatic smile. “While we certainly see the advantages of your proposal, we must be certain we are doing what is best for our country. I am sure you would not mind if we answer you in due time.”
Gojong slumped into his chair again. The head Japanese dignitary eyed the king, and the corners of his mouth turned up. He nodded at the Taewŏn-gun and agreed that they would await our answer. And with that, the meeting was over.
Later, we held a reception in a small pavilion next to Sajeongjeon Hall. The Taewŏn-gun chafed at having such a modest place to host foreign dignitaries. He often complained that it made our country—and him—look backward and weak. During the reception, I performed exactly as the Taewŏn-gun and Mister Euno had instructed me to. I answered the Japanese dignitary’s questions with short, diplomatic answers. I kept perfect posture throughout—my shoulders down and back, and my chin level. I was the very picture of royalty and grace. The king, however, showed no interest in the festivities. He kicked at the ground and eyed his father when the regent wasn’t looking.
In the end, the Japanese dignitaries went back to Japan, and as far as I could tell, the Taewŏn-gun never gave them an answer.
I worked very hard at learning what I must do as queen, and in a less than a year, I had become quite skilled at it. When I performed as the Taewŏn-gun wanted me to—which I always did—he gave me a small smile and a nod to show he was pleased with me. I began to appreciate how important Mister Euno’s lessons were, though I felt they were becoming repetitive.
Even so, I wondered if I was fulfilling my destiny as my mother and uncle told me I must. Of course, my performance as queen with foreign dignitaries and clan leaders was valuable to the government, but I certainly was not speaking for Korea or using my gifts to see what others did not. I wasn’t terribly concerned about this, however. I enjoyed what I was doing, and I was delighted that everyone approved of me.
Everyone, that is, except for Lady Min. She treated me as if I were an awful queen. When we were alone, she hit me with her fan for little things she thought I’d done wrong, even though I had done exactly as the Taewŏn-gun and Mister Euno had told me to do. She criticized my looks and said I was too small to be queen. She looked down her nose at me and said it was a good thing that she was the Grand Lady Min, the regent’s wife and still the most powerful woman in Korea. I never fought back or objected to her insults. I simply did my duty as best as I could.
And much to my surprise, I enjoyed being queen, especially attending the afternoon meetings. In my place behind the king, I took great interest in the proceedings, the debates among the ministers, and how the Taewŏn-gun made his decisions. Though there were times I wanted to speak up or give an opinion, I didn’t feel I should because I knew little about the topics they discussed. So as King Gojong slouched and sometimes dozed at the head of the table, I watched and learned how the government worked.
I was amazed at how much there was to do. There were requests from the public—mostly yangban—for changes in how the country was run. The Taewŏn-gun had levied a new household tax on the upper classes—what he called “voluntary offerings”—to pay for projects like a new grand pavilion for Gyeongbok Palace. The yangban protested and recommended scaling back on the projects or suggested other ways of raising revenue. I listened carefully to the presentations and debates among the ministers and tried to understand why the Taewŏn-gun rejected the proposals.
There were presentations from emissaries of countries other than Japan as well. These were usually requests to open trade with them. They brought strange and wonderful goods—ornate porcelain and gold clocks from France, bolts of plaid wool fabric from England, pungent spices from Spain, intricate wood carvings from America. The emissaries promised great prosperity for us if we would sign their treaties and open our borders to them. After each country’s presentation, the palace secretary would show the dignitaries out of the hall, the ministers would debate, and the Taewŏn-gun would make his decisions. No matter how persuasive the presentation was, no matter how forcefully the ministers argued, the Taewŏn-gun always decided against the treaties. His ministers—especially Minister Kim—warned that there was a budding fascination among Koreans with the strange Western nations of Europe and America, and that the pressure from these countries would only grow. But the Taewŏn-gun argued that the West’s eccentric customs and ideas were dangerous for Korea, and he always held firm.
At night, if he called me, I would go to King Gojong’s bedchamber. I had become much more comfortable with sex, although there was no passion in it. Our relationship was based on only one thing—that I was the vessel that would bear him a son. We never talked about life in the palace, or gossiped about the royal court or the palace visitors. We certainly didn’t discuss politics or the decisions his father made in the afternoon meetings. The king was always aware of my monthly cycle, and when it was my time of month, he would ask if I was with child. When I told him I was hav
ing my monthly bleed, he would scold me for not giving him a son. He told me I was a worthless wife and a horrible queen. He threatened to take on a second wife and have me banished from the palace. He sent me away and didn’t call for me for weeks.
TWELVE
One particularly warm evening a year after I had become queen, I sat alone in my study. I had prepared myself to be with the king, but he had not called for me. I worried that he was with one of his concubines, or was drinking with his friends. I could tell Han-sook felt sorry for me. My prim, middle-aged lady’s maid offered to have my attendants pour a bath with rose petals and lilac perfume, but I declined. I thought about going for a walk through the palace, but I had grown tired of the same scene every day. Earlier, I had asked Lady Min if I could walk outside the palace walls. She said the Taewŏn-gun wouldn’t allow it and that I could only leave the palace grounds when I went with King Gojong for a Yi clan picnic on the Han River, or a hike in the pine forests behind the palace near Mount Bukhansan, which we rarely did. So I sat on a silk cushion in my quarters and sulked.
Then Han-sook was at my door. “Minister Kim is outside, Majesty,” she said. “He wishes to speak with you. He said it is important.”
I was surprised that the minister was calling. I’d never had anyone from the government visit me in my quarters. They had only talked to me at Sajeongjeon Hall, and only then about an upcoming ceremony or feast I was to preside over. I couldn’t imagine why Minister Kim had come to talk to me. “Let him in,” I said.
Han-sook stepped aside and the thin elderly man with the long gray beard and snow-white eyebrows came through the door. He was dressed in the simple white robe of a scholar. He bowed low and said, “Your Majesty.”
“Minister Kim,” I said, “what is on your mind that you want to see me at this time of day?”
“Majesty, it is . . . the tapestry,” he said in his halting style. “I asked the Taewŏn-gun if I could study it further. If it would not be too much trouble . . . I would like to see it now.”
“You may,” I said. “It is there, behind my desk.”
Han-sook stood back from us as a lady’s maid should. Without moving toward the tapestry, Minister Kim looked sideways at her and then lowered his eyes. “Perhaps, Majesty, you could show it to me . . . alone?”
I immediately understood. I turned to Han-sook, who gave me a worried look. “Leave us,” I said to her.
“But Majesty,” she began, “I—”
“Leave us now,” I said. My lady’s maid hesitated a moment, then bowed out of the door with her small, Japanese-style steps.
I was now alone with Minister Kim. “Do you really want to look at the tapestry?” I asked.
“Yes, Majesty,” he said. “I do.”
“But you also have something to say to me. That is why you had me dismiss my lady’s maid.”
Minister Kim lowered his head. “Yes, Majesty. Please forgive the nature of my visit to your quarters . . . at this hour. I told the Taewŏn-gun that I only wanted to see the tapestry. But there are things you must know . . . and this is the only way I could think of to tell you about them.”
“I see,” I said. “Come, look at the tapestry. Then tell me what you have to say.” I pointed at the tapestry hanging on the wall. Minister Kim took his monocle from inside his robe and a candle from the wall. He went to the tapestry and studied it closely. He ran his long, gnarled fingers over the gold, two-headed dragon with its claws and curled tongues. He examined the border. He stepped back, took off his monocle, and looked at the entire tapestry. He stroked his beard. “Yes,” he said. “It is as I thought.”
“What do you see?” I asked.
“Well, Majesty,” he said, “when I first saw it . . . I suspected it was an important artifact. I was relieved when you said you wanted to keep it . . . and that they did not burn it. I took it upon myself to find out who made it. I also took it upon myself to learn what the message ‘One Korea’ meant. I read books and made inquiries . . . all secretly. I did not want the Taewŏn-gun to become . . . suspicious.”
“And what did you learn, Minister?”
“Majesty, notice how the dragon’s heads face in opposite directions but come together in one body. And because the dragon has five toes . . . well, I believe King Taejo himself commissioned it. The tapestry and the words, ‘One Korea’ are a message from him. It is a message that we must strive to be one nation. And I believe that those who wish Korea to be independent and free have passed along this tapestry and message . . . for hundreds of years.”
A message from King Taejo, Chosŏn’s first king. Was it possible? I looked at the tapestry. It certainly looked five hundred years old. And the dragon had always stared at me as if it were trying to say something.
I turned to Minister Kim. “Minister,” I said, “why haven’t you told this to the Taewŏn-gun? Why don’t you want him to know? And why are you telling me?”
Minister Kim said, “Because, Majesty, Korea needs a new leader. There are many who fight over us. The Chinese wish to keep us their protectorate. The Japanese wish to take us for themselves. The yangban fight to retain their position in society. The clans battle each other for power. You are the one who will bring us together as one nation. You are the hope . . . for One Korea.”
“Me?” I said. “How do you know, Minister?”
“Majesty,” the old man said, “I am a man of science and reason. While I believe in the spirit in all things . . . I am not inclined to believe in magic. But according to the books, each time the tapestry appears . . . a great leader rises. It is not a coincidence that the tapestry found its way to them. And Majesty . . . it is not a coincidence that the tapestry has found its way to you.”
The old man looked directly at me for the first time. There was earnestness in his face as he opened his mouth to say more. I held my breath. Suddenly there was a commotion in the reception room. Minister Kim stiffened and whispered, “Do not reveal this to anyone. There are agents from all sides within the palace. Trust no one. The walls . . . have ears.”
Then Lady Min rushed into the study followed closely by Han-sook. “Majesty,” Lady Min said without even a nod, “your lady’s maid tells me you have a visitor. I thought I could be of assistance.” She turned to the minister. “Minister,” she said, “you have come to look at the tapestry?”
Minister Kim lowered his head. “Yes, Excellency. I wanted to see if it was genuine. I’m sorry to say that, upon closer inspection . . . it is a fake. I’ll make my report to the Taewŏn-gun tomorrow.”
“I see,” Lady Min said. She produced her fan from inside her yellow robe and fanned herself. “Well now that you have seen the tapestry and made your assessment, you may go.”
As Minister Kim went to the door, I forced myself to take a step forward. I had been the queen for over a year, and it was still difficult for me to give orders. But Minister Kim’s claim that I was the one chosen to be a leader stirred something inside me. “Wait, Minister,” I said. “Tell the Taewŏn-gun that though the tapestry is fake, I wish to keep it.”
“Yes, Majesty,” he said.
“And now, Minister,” I said, “you may go.”
After Minister Kim left the study, I turned to Lady Min, who stood in the middle of my study fanning herself. I was angry with her for interrupting Minister Kim before he could tell me more about the tapestry and why it had come to me. I thought of how she controlled where I went, what I did, and whom I talked to. I thought of how poorly she treated me when we were alone. I lifted my chin and said, “Lady Min, I would thank you not to interrupt me when I am meeting with someone in my quarters. Also, let me dismiss my visitors.”
Han-sook cowered behind Lady Min, who stopped fanning herself and looked at me with her mouth half-opened. It was the first time I had ever talked to her that way. I thought she might slap me or report me to the Taewŏn-gun.
But before Lady Min could say anything, I said, “And now, Your Excellency, I would like to be alone.”
Lady Min’s mouth dropped farther. She closed her fan and cocked her arm to hit me with it. Before she could, I wrapped my hand around her fan and stared at her. She glared back, but after a few seconds, she took her fan away and slipped it inside her robe. Then, without addressing me as she should have, she lifted her hanbok and left the room with Han-sook scurrying close behind.
That night as I sat in my bedchamber, I thought about what Minister Kim had told me. “You are the hope for One Korea,” he said. I didn’t understand what he meant. After all, I was already the queen, so what more could I be? He also said Korea was in danger from invaders. It didn’t seem to me we were in danger of anything. Sure, the Japanese wanted to open trade with us and made threats, as the Japanese do. Other nations wanted trade with us, too. But China was the true power in Asia, and they would certainly come to our aid if Japan or anyone else followed through on their threats.
I remembered that my uncle had told me that someday, I would have to choose between being a stone queen or a dragon queen. I went to my study and stared at the tapestry and the two-headed dragon. I remembered the promise I made to my mother that I would speak for the spirits. It seemed that the two-headed dragon spirit was trying to talk to me. Its eyes looked straight at me, and I thought I saw its long tongues move. I turned my ear to the dragon, but I didn’t hear anything. I wondered if it was true what my mother and uncle had said, that I saw things that others did not.
I went to bed, but Minister Kim’s words haunted me and I could not sleep. If Korea needed saving and I was the one who had to do it, I needed to do more than preside over ceremonies and feasts. Perhaps I should start asking questions and give my opinions in the afternoon meetings. But I didn’t know enough about government or the outside world to give a learned opinion. I was afraid I would say something that would show my ignorance or that I would ask a foolish question. Though I had enjoyed reading since the time I was with my parents, I was still uneducated. I decided I had to take charge of my education instead of letting Lady Min and Mister Euno drill me in the rituals of my office. I had to learn about the world beyond the palace.
The Dragon Queen Page 10