The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology)

by Weina Dai Randel

We arrived at the vast yard in front of the Audience Hall, a wide, towering edifice. My legs were sore, and my arms had grown tired from holding the tray. But I was excited to see so many ministers waiting for the Emperor. There were also foreign messengers, some in high hats and boots, some in fisherman’s sandals. They all crowded around the steep stairs that led to the hall, for our kingdom, the most prosperous and the most cultured, was also the most powerful under Heaven.

  A loud gong sounded, and a court announcer’s distinctive voice pierced the sky. “I hereby announce the Emperor of China, the One Above All, Emperor Taizong, the Conqueror of the North and the South, the great ruler of all land and the seven seas, has arrived!”

  All the men kowtowed, heads bowed, backs arched, and hands flattened on the ground.

  I followed the Emperor as he ascended the stairs and entered the Audience Hall. He went to his throne, threw his long sleeves behind him, and sat, his hands resting on his thighs. I went to an antechamber at the left of the hall with the other attendants. We would wait for the Emperor there, where he would have refreshments during the audience and change his formal attire at the end of the session. Behind us, the ministers holding their ivory tablets filed into the Audience Hall and lined up along the two sides.

  The court announcer began to call out the names of the courtiers. First came the three most powerful men, the Duke, Chancellor of the Shangshu Department; Wei Zheng, Chancellor of Menxia Department; and Secretary Fang Xuanling of Zhongshu Department, then the Emperor’s uncle, then the second-degree courtiers, the third-degree courtiers, and many more. I remembered my grandfather had been one of the chancellors in Sui Dynasty, though I did not remember which department. As I listened to the men’s names, I watched them through a gap between the screens that blocked off the hall, memorizing their faces.

  Whom should I approach to win their support? The Duke was out of the question. What about the Emperor’s uncle? Or the Secretary? The Chancellor? Or perhaps the other second-degree courtiers?

  After the roll call, the ministers joined to recite the virtues of the Emperor, their voices rising high to the hall’s ceiling. Then the Emperor ordered the foreign messengers to enter. One by one, they stepped into the hall, identified their kingdoms, presented their tributes, and stated their requests. The Emperor received their gifts and granted their wishes. Then a group of fishermen entered. The Japanese, the court announcer declared. They asked the ruler’s permission to stay in the capital in order to study our culture, architecture, and even our clothes.

  “Come here, Mei.” Daisy beckoned, standing near many chests that contained the foreign gifts offered to the Emperor. Near her, the other attendants leaned against pillars and dozed. We had risen at the third crow of the rooster and were all tired.

  “What is it, Daisy?” I moved away from the screen.

  “Look at this.” She held up a medallion and bit into it, denting the soft metal. “The messenger said it was made of real gold. See the man on this medallion? It’s their king. What’s the round bowl thing he’s wearing?”

  What else would the king put on his head? “I think it’s a crown.”

  “A crown? Looks more like a chamber pot.”

  “Why would someone wear a chamber pot on his head?” It had to be a crown, even though it was unlike anything I had seen. I took the coin from her hand. It was inscribed with some squirmy letters like a child’s scribble. They did not have the straight edges or corners of our characters.

  “I don’t understand. The king doesn’t have jewels on his crown, but the coin is made of real gold.” Daisy flipped another medallion in the air. “Do you think this kingdom has plenty of gold?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “It’s from Byzantium. Have you heard of it? Such a funny name. It sounds like a name for a pagoda. Where is the kingdom, do you think?”

  A book in the library had mentioned that shallots often thrived wherever a gold mine lay, that wild onions grew near silver deposits, ginger, and copper. Wherever Byzantium was, it must have grown lots of shallots. But I had no desire to explain, because the announcer had just introduced the kingdom’s messenger. I returned to the screen and peeked out.

  “The servant of our great Basileus, the King of Kings, Heraclius.” A man in a white robe stepped toward the throne. “Hail to Your Majesty, from our kingdom, Byzantium, the most ancient civilization of the world.”

  He was accompanied by a man with long, grizzly hair and a thick, messy beard, who looked like a merchant and also served as a translator.

  “Boast not, young man, boast not. No country is more ancient than mine. Byzantium, that’s how you call it?” The Emperor’s voice echoed in the hall. “It is young. Founded in the year 324? My country dates back to one thousand years ago.”

  “The glory of Your Majesty has reached to the heart of our realm. That is why our Basileus sent me here,” the messenger said.

  “What do you want? Trade, vassalage, or protection?”

  “We are not here to seek vassalage, trade, or protection, Your Majesty.” The messenger bowed. “Our Basileus, the King of Kings, Heraclius, offers Your Majesty an opportunity to rule half of the world. Heraclius, our Basileus, rules the West, and Your Majesty, the East.”

  I was intrigued. An offer of alliance? I pressed my eyes closer to the screen, trying to see the Emperor’s reaction.

  He looked contemplative. “I heard Khusro II, from the Sassanian Empire, had launched a massive campaign to battle you Byzantines. Isn’t it so that your king lost the cities of Damascus, Jerusalem, and the city near a river, called Egypt?”

  “That was twenty-five years ago.” The messenger’s voice was thick with an accent, but even so, I could hear the tinge of amusement in his tone. “Our Basileus crushed the Sassanids and recovered all the territories that Your Majesty is aware of. And by the grace of God, he returned the True Cross to the sacred land of Jerusalem.”

  “Do not talk about God with me. War is man’s business, not God’s,” the Emperor bellowed.

  The messenger coughed and spoke rapidly in a low voice. Gasps rose in the hall, and the ministers murmured, as if stunned by the message.

  “So you say the Sassanian Emperor is no more?” The Emperor stood up.

  “I’m afraid so, Your Majesty.”

  “Who destroyed them?”

  “That is why I’m here, Your Majesty.” The messenger handed a scroll to the Duke, who stood near the throne. He presented the scroll to the Emperor, who took it and unrolled it.

  A map. I took a deep breath. Sun Tzu’s The Art of War had mentioned that with a map, an army could drive through the enemy’s territory as if it were their own backyard. I had never seen one before.

  “The men on horses, the Kingdom of Circumcised Man,” the messenger said. “My Basileus dreamed they would conquer vast lands in the west and east, bound by one prophecy.”

  “Who are they?”

  “They are called the Arabs.”

  “A small tribe.” The Emperor rolled up the map.

  “Your Majesty may have nothing to fear, but what about your vassals? Will they be strong enough to hold against the Arabs’ assault?”

  That was a good point. As the Heavenly Khan, he had the duty to protect his vassals, or they would rescind their oaths and revolt. I waited for the Emperor’s answer.

  Silence befell the Audience Hall. After a moment, the Emperor spoke. “Any thoughts, my counselors?”

  A resounding mix of voices filled the hall as the ministers argued.

  “The Arabs are nothing,” the Duke said, holding his ivory tablet.

  “Their emperor had a dream!” the Emperor’s uncle countered. His voice was angrier than usual. Earlier, when they were lining up before the throne, I had noticed he kept a great distance from the Duke, eyeing him in disgust. I remembered the friction between the two. Perhaps I could seek the Unc
le’s support?

  “I say we consider their emperor’s offer of alliance now and attack the Arabs,” said another voice. It was the Chancellor, Wei Zheng. “We can send the men from the Four Garrisons to the west. There is a good saying: you kill the animal when it’s a cub; you don’t wait until it grows to be a lion.”

  “Unwise! We shall defeat them when they come!” the Duke said.

  “Only a coward will wait!” the Uncle said, raising his voice. “A true warrior will not wait for a war.”

  “And you’re an old man. You can hardly see the stairs ahead of you, let alone find the right path,” the Duke said, raising his voice too.

  I heard gasps rise in the hall, and the Emperor’s voice came. “Counselors! Shall I remind you this is a moment for consultation? Consultation! Anyone?”

  A moment of silence, and then a wave of murmurs followed.

  I pulled away from the screens. If the two most prominent officials would argue like children in front of foreign guests, the rift between them must have been unsealable. Perhaps it was not a bad thing. I remembered clearly that Sun Tzu had mentioned that division bred weakness, and weakness provided opportunity.

  The Emperor appeared in the antechamber. I took a tray of apples and went to him. He shook his head and asked for an empty tray. When I returned with one, he took off his bejeweled mortarboard crown and placed it on the tray. Daisy and the other attendants bowed and asked whether he needed any sweetmeat for a snack.

  Carrying the tray, I stepped back, studying the crown. What a brilliant piece. There were thousands of pearls strung together to form two curtains in the front and back.

  I was so close to the crown, however, that after a moment, the pearls turned dewy with my breath.

  25

  It was dark when I reached the garden. The small rock was leaning against the wall, and I could hear Pheasant’s whistle coming from inside. I hesitated. I was the Emperor’s favorite, and soon I might be Most Adored. But the other night, when Pheasant burst into the Emperor’s chamber, we had nearly exposed ourselves.

  But I could not resist it. I had to see Pheasant. I put my hands on the wall and pulled myself up. I heard rustling behind me. I jerked around.

  A shadow ran down the trail. I leaped off the wall and ran after it.

  “Wait, wait!” I followed the shadow as it dashed to a grove. “I know it’s you, Rain!”

  The shadow slowed and turned to face me.

  “How did you know it was me?” she asked.

  I stopped a few paces away, panting. My throat was tight, and I could hardly breathe. “You’ve been following me, haven’t you?” And if she told the Emperor about me seeing Pheasant…

  “Now I know your secret.”

  Her voice was hard, brittle, filled with resentment. I swallowed. “I know your secret too, Rain.”

  “Well, what will you do, Talent? You cannot harm me.”

  It was true. She was not the Emperor’s concubine, like me. “But you don’t know that, do you, Rain? If the Emperor believes you seduced Pheasant, he might grow angry and expel you from the court. Then you will be disgraced. But I want to tell you I never thought to expose your secret. I wish you would understand.”

  “Of course you will say that. What else would you say?”

  “I mean it.” She looked hesitant, and I hurried to continue. “What would you gain by hurting me? How do you think the Emperor would reward you if you told him? He may punish me, yes, but what about you? Pheasant will not forgive you. He’ll never forgive you.”

  She came closer to me, her shadow slithering on the ground like a sinister beast. “You want my silence.”

  “I…I wish…we could be friends.” I knew I sounded dubious, but I would not be the first woman in the court who put up a pretense to get a reconciliation.

  “Friends? You stole him from me.”

  “I…I’m sorry.”

  “So we’re even now,” she said slowly.

  Relieved, I breathed out. “Yes, we—”

  “But we are not finished.” She slapped me.

  When I raised my head again, she had turned and walked away. Her pace was assured and steady, reminding me I should not underestimate her.

  I turned around and ran back to tell Pheasant about Rain. I could not stay after that. I walked back to my chamber, my mind in disarray.

  • • •

  I dreamed of Father that night. We were at our family’s grave site, constructing his coffin. I was so small, not yet five then. He cut the planks and hammered the nails while I sealed the seams with fresh pine resin and coated the wood with thick lacquer. Together, we also selected golden grave goods, fifty-five of them, to match his governor’s status. That was my favorite moment from childhood. Then suddenly, he looked into my eyes. I thought he was going to smile, but he frowned.

  I awoke. He knew I was seeing Pheasant. He was warning me. Even though he did not speak a word, I could hear him saying, “You’re so close, Mei. So close. You must do what is the best for your family, not for yourself. Don’t lose yourself, Mei.”

  A slab of heaviness pressed to my heart. I put my chin on my knees. Had I been in the palace for so long that I had forgotten about why I had wanted to come to the palace? Forgotten about my father?

  He was a prudent man who was most concerned about his heir, who would be responsible for his burial rite and carry his name after his death. When Little Sister was born, with Mother in her forties, he realized he would not have a male heir. To ensure he would receive a proper burial when he died, he devoted his time to preparing for his afterlife himself. He selected the best cypress for his coffin, constructed it with me, and when he finished it, he draped the oiled cloth over the coffin to prevent it from decay and placed it on the ceiling joists in our reception hall. He also made his white silk funeral garment, stitched with clouds and pines, symbols of eternal life in Heaven, and purchased white silk slippers padded with goose feathers.

  But after the monk’s prophecy, he knew I could still carry his name and, even better, I could bring his legacy to a height even a boy could not achieve.

  Would I disappoint him?

  I could not let my passion ruin my dream, my father’s dream. Especially since Rain knew my secret.

  I had to stop seeing Pheasant.

  • • •

  I sensed him before I saw him, standing on the other side of the bridge in the garden. Gripping the basket of clean laundry, I paused on the trail leading to the wooden bridge. It was not a coincidence Pheasant had found me. I had stopped coming to the garden, and when I came across him with the Emperor in the Outer Palace, I had avoided him.

  “So this is what everyone is talking about,” Plum said, walking beside me and Daisy. She did not notice Pheasant, nor was she aware that I had fallen behind them. “And it’s serious. Even the Emperor cannot stop the gossip. Who do you think is the kingdom’s foe, Mei?”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. The prophecy had spread all over Chang’an, and everywhere, people whispered.

  “Look, it’s Prince Zhi,” Plum whispered to me. “He’s looking at us.”

  Daisy’s bosoms rose and fell dramatically. “So handsome. I think I am going to faint.”

  “I forgot to bring the sheets from the laundry. I’ll go get them,” I said. “You can go without me.”

  “Are you certain?” Plum asked, unsuspecting. I had not told her about Pheasant and me. I trusted her, but for her own sake, it was better that she did not know.

  I nodded and, to make my lie appear real, I retraced the path to the servants’ quarters with my basket.

  Giggling, Plum and Daisy passed Pheasant, their hands covering their mouths. They walked to a path near the bamboo grove and disappeared. I stood where I was for a moment and then walked to the bridge.

  “Where are you going, sweet face?” He w
as still standing there, not moving. He looked pale, and the stubble on his chin had grown thick, like a dark cloud. His white tunic was crumpled. He looked as though he had not slept well for weeks.

  A pang rose in my chest. “To the wardrobe chamber.” I reached for the wooden rail for support.

  He coughed, looking awkward, nothing like the fellow who used to leap off haystacks with grace. “I saw you at the imperial stable a moment ago with my father. They were branding horses. You probably didn’t notice me.”

  His voice was hoarse, and each word hit me like a hammer. Of course I had noticed him. But I could not tell him that. I turned to look at the pond under the bridge, where a goldfish leaped, and the water rippled. I dug my nails into the rail. “There were many people there, and the Kashmir horses were of superb quality.”

  “Right,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t like branding horses.”

  I knew it, but I said, “The Emperor does. He told me the horses needed to be branded for their age, speed, breed, and condition, even their agility and stamina.” Pheasant had been the one who had told me that. I bit my lip.

  He thrust his head back and ran his fingers through his long, loose hair. “I wanted to tell you. I talked to Rain. She promised she would not tell my father about us. So will you come again?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “I know it’s risky. But I told her if she dared to tell my father about us, I would tell him she had seen me too.”

  So Rain could not harm me after all, thanks to Pheasant. “It is still dangerous, Pheasant,” I said slowly. “And that night in his bedchamber…”

  “I did not say anything, did I?”

  “What if it happens again?”

  “I swear I would not say a word.”

  A raindrop fell on my sleeve and vanished on the surface of the fine silk gown the Emperor had given me. Before me, the bamboos swayed near the bridge, and the sky darkened. It would rain soon. Should I tell Pheasant the real reason I could not see him again? “I don’t know…”

  “Besides, have I told you I am not like my brothers? I can choose whom I marry. Before my mother died, she made my father promise my wife would be my choice, not his.”