by Poon, Alice;
“How has he been treating you?”
“After the war in Korea, he tried to win me over by lavishing gifts on me. But just as he did before to please me and my brothers, it’s all a show. He is good to us for only one reason: we are all good at fighting and he needs us to wage his wars. And he knows in his heart what he owes me in particular.”
Sumalagu had laid out several dishes of sweetmeats on the table, and Bumbutai got up to serve them to her lover. Just then, they heard the sound of the second gong beat. Watching her gliding towards him, he seized her by the tiny waist and pulled her close to him. He lifted her up effortlessly and carried her into her bed chamber. As he started to unbutton her waistcoat, she struggled to sit up on her bed.
“No, no, please don’t do this, Dorgon. It could bring ruin on both of us. We must try to keep our heads. He has not touched me once over the last two years, and if I get pregnant, it will be the end of us!”
Those words froze him in his act. He buried his head in Bumbutai’s bosom and cried in anguish. She stroke his face tenderly and kissed away his tears.
A pattering of hurried steps outside the chamber could be heard. Then a knock on the chamber door. They heard Sumalagu whisper through the door chink:
“Venerable Beile, you must leave right now through the backyard door. Please hurry. A man is coming to the garden gate. It’s too dark and I couldn’t identify him.”
Dorgon jumped up from the bed, kissed Bumbutai on the forehead and dashed out. Sumalagu led him out into the backyard and opened the yard gate for him. Then she rushed back to the front gate.
Her mistress was talking to Wukeshan in the garden. He had come to deliver the news of the passing of their grandfather. He asked his sister’s advice on whether or not they should disclose this mournful news to the Emperor and Harjol. After contemplating for a long time, Bumbutai decided that it would be best to keep it quiet for the moment. She feared that if such bad news led to any mishap in Harjol’s pregnancy, it might give the Emperor an excuse to find a scapegoat.
Then Wukeshan took out a small package from his sleeve and handed it to Bumbutai.
“On his sickbed, our Grandpa told me to give this to you,” he said. “This jade seal is the Borjigit clan’s heirloom. You are to safe-keep it and pass it on to the first male issue from Hong Taiji and one of the Borjigit Princesses.”
The news of Manggusi’s death left Bumbutai devastated, and she thought about how, on top of not being able to mourn her beloved grandfather in her homeland, she would have to put on a false merry face when around the Emperor and Harjol.
Wukeshan said a few words to comfort her and then turned just before leaving.
“Sister, do watch your step,” he warned. “I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”
After he left, she remained in the garden, not wanting to go indoors. She looked up at the dark vaulted sky. Heavy clouds were devouring the full moon as if to portend her bleary future. An unbearable sense of isolation engulfed her. A sudden yearning to hide in her mother’s embrace rushed up to fill her entire being. The word “duty” had never weighed heavier on her heart than at that very moment. She crouched down and curled up her body, wishing there was a cocoon into which she could vanish.
In the early summer of the following year, the Emperor ordered a Buddhist ritual to pray for the safe delivery of the royal infant, whose birth was expected in about three months. Led by Empress Jere, all Consorts and Concubines wearing violet silk robes filed into the Guansui Palace garden. They chanted psalms as they circled the altar, which was placed in the middle of the garden. At the altar three Buddhist monks offered joss sticks to the effigy of the Goddess of Mercy and burned strips of yellow paper with wishes written on them.
Half-way through the ritual, the Emperor’s entrance was announced. His eunuchs helped him to be seated in a canopied wing chair to observe the ritual. His eyes loitered for a moment and fell on Bumbutai, whose face he had not seen for a long while. What he saw now pleased him a great deal. She still had a strikingly handsome face and a supple figure. The violet color of her robe set off her luminous complexion to a pearly shade. Her gracefulness and understated charm brushed over him like a fresh breeze. If Harjol could be likened to a pink peony in full bloom, then Bumbutai would be a budding white lily. How could he have neglected such beauty?
In the evening, the Emperor gave special orders to his chief eunuch that he wanted Bumbutai in his bed chamber for the night. If Harjol should ask for his whereabouts, he was in the study hall reading Court papers. He had endured his dry spell for long enough.
On the Imperial bed, Bumbutai closed her eyes and tried hard to conjure up images that could distract her. When it was over, the Emperor said despairingly:
“You are my woman. Why can’t you give me your heart?”
“Your Imperial Highness, every part of me is yours. My only wish is to give you pleasure. If I have failed, I beg your forgiveness.”
“Your heart is somewhere else. Don’t take me for a fool. I am the Emperor and your husband. I have a right to you as a whole. If your heart betrays me, I can punish you.”
“If it pleases Your Imperial Highness, I willingly submit to your punishment,” she replied in a soft voice, unfazed by his threat. It was in moments like this that she wished she had bristles on her body.
“Don’t you know that I could never harm you? My heart was set on you from the first time I saw you, Bumbutai. Do you know how hurt I felt the night you bedded me for the first time? You couldn’t even look me in the eyes.” A shadow of deep dolor darted across his face as he spoke. After a long pause, he continued: “But it doesn’t matter now. Your important duty is to bear me a son, because I want this son to inherit your wisdom and my bravery.”
“I know very well that is my duty, Your Imperial Highness.”
“How I hope Harjol will bear me a son. I need capable sons to inherit the fruit of my lifetime conquests. How perfect it would be if you could be as devoted to me as your sister. You two are the most intelligent of all my women, you in particular.” That dark shadow again swam across his deeply furrowed forehead. The candle flickers cast uneven shades on his face and made him look haggard.
“My mother told me when she was dying that I wouldn’t be safe until I became a Khan. I had to do whatever was necessary to get to that position. In the process I might have hurt some people. Now that I am in that position, I have tried to make amends. But I also need to pass the fruit of my labor to posterity. My Empire and my subjects need a great successor. He must be able to realize my dream – of uniting the three races under the Qing – in case the heavens summon me earlier than expected…..”
Bumbutai’s heart softened as she heard such heartfelt words from him. The man had deeper feelings than he let on. Only he had too much pride and was in the habit of hiding his emotions. No amount of love could assuage his innate fears and burden of guilt. Instinct urged her to respond to the fickle warmth that this cold-faced man had just shown. She snuggled up to console him, and he took her again, this time with much tenderness. She felt she understood him better now, and she could even be kind to him. But she only had one heart to give, and it had long been taken.
Three months later, the Emperor had a strange dream one night. In the dream his father Nurhaci came to tell him to look up to the sky. As he looked up, he saw tiers of beautiful rose-colored clouds floating around and above them a small chink of blue sky, which shifted in and out of sight, until it disappeared altogether. A wild wind blew and the ethereal clouds dispersed. Then out of nowhere a ball of fire rose up, burning brightly. It startled and woke him. He felt an ominous unease.
He told Daisan about his dream and asked what he made of it. Daisan said that fire was always a good sign because it symbolized heat and life, deliberately ignoring the first part of the dream. The Emperor’s mind was somewhat soothed by his words. After a while, he turned his attention to
Court matters at hand and forgot about the dream completely.
The following day, Harjol gave premature birth to the Emperor’s eighth son. He was overcome with joy and announced that he would grant a general amnesty when his son was one month old, as a token of gratitude to Buddha. As the infant was very weak at birth, the finest Court physicians were ordered to take daily care of the baby until he showed more strength. They fed it soup made with birds’ nest on a daily basis until the bluish color of the little body disappeared.
On his first month’s birthday, the baby looked underweight but otherwise healthy enough. Swaddled in embroidered yellow velvet, he nestled peacefully in the arms of his radiant mother, who paraded him with pride around the Banquet Hall where the grand feast was held in his honor. No grander feast had ever been held for any of the Emperor’s sons on their first-month birthdays. Choicest pieces of roasted lamb shoulders and pork shanks, on top of delicacy dishes cooked in Chinese style, and barrels and barrels of barley and rice wine were served throughout the day. Entertainment included Chinese dancing, acrobatic and opera performances, which had taken one month to rehearse, day and night, and couldn’t have been more spectacular. The feast was to continue into the next day.
In the Imperial edict that granted general amnesty, the Emperor referred to his newborn son as the “royal heir”. This was the first time that the Emperor had ever used the words “royal heir” in any official Court document. Having been informed about Manggusi’s death after his son’s birth, he now granted his late father-in-law the posthumous title of Prince of the First Rank in another edict. He apparently did this out of love for Harjol more than for anyone else.
On this day, cartloads and cartloads of congratulatory gifts arrived from the Borjigit clan in Mongolia. Big feasts were also being held on the clan’s home turf in the southern steppe. The birth of this royal heir signified the permanent strengthening of bonds between the Khorchin Mongols and the Manchus. Words could not express the pride that the tribesmen felt for this “fair-faced daughter” for performing her duty well.
Bumbutai had known she was with child before her sister gave birth to hers, but thought she would withhold the news for a little while so as not to steal the show. When she returned to her Palace from the feast, she disclosed it to Sumalagu. The maid was beside herself with joy for her mistress, having actually dreamed the previous night that her Bumbutai was carrying an infant boy.
But the mistress was in a different mood. She couldn’t feel any joy. All she could envision was scene after scene of sibling rivalry and perpetual hatred in the struggle for the throne. She could never forget what had happened that fateful night at the Throne Hall when Daisan had read out Nurhaci’s will. If she were to bear a son, she couldn’t see how she could avoid being drawn into the political vortex. The memory of what had happened to Lady Abahai still sent chills into her bones.
She called to mind one particular unhappy face she had seen at the royal heir’s birthday feast. It belonged to the Emperor’s eldest son, Hooge. He was born of Lady Ulanara, the Emperor’s deceased first wife. Though not the Emperor’s favorite son, Hooge was a young valiant warrior who often boasted of his military trophies. Pomposity and arrogance were his weaknesses that made his father dislike him, but that didn’t discourage him from having an eye on the status of Crown Prince. Jealousy was written all over his face when the Imperial edict was being read out, referring to Harjol’s son as “royal heir.”
Empathetic as she was towards the Emperor, Bumbutai couldn’t help but feel that Dorgon was the one on whom gross injustice had been inflicted. If it weren’t for Hong Taiji’s maneuvers, Dorgon would have become the Emperor rather than he, and in her opinion, Dorgon could have been just as good an Emperor as Hong Taiji. But then again, maybe things would have worked out differently, that circumstances might have deposited poisonous residue in Dorgon’s soul and hardened his heart. It was impossible to say. But now that she was carrying Hong Taiji’s fourth child, she felt ashamed of her used body and the fact that she had been unable to give herself to Dorgon. Then she paused. Perhaps her current circumstances allowed her to give him what he deserved, and desired.
She wrote a note and asked Sumalagu to take it to Dorgon at the feast. In the note she asked him to come to her Palace the next evening under the guise of a Court physician, at the same time as the previous meeting. The feast was due to continue into the next night, and there would be hordes of people coming and going and it would be easy for him to slip in and out.
Once he was seated in the lounge, Bumbutai appeared in a jade green half-sleeved silk waistcoat adorned with butterfly buttons and a pleated silk skirt of the same color. Quietly she offered him rice wine and then began twirling around in a seductive butterfly dance that she had specially rehearsed for him. She had learned the dance from Siu Mui and Siu Fa, who had learned it in their childhood. Before it came to a finish, Dorgon could wait no longer and got up from the couch. In one swift brush, he swept her into his arms and carried her into her bed chamber.
He slowly removed her waistcoat first, then her skirt, then her undergarments. Savoring every inch of her milky skin, he teased her with his rousing caresses. “You look so lovely in green,” he whispered in her ear. Their eyes locked, as they entered each other’s souls. Each saw in the other their younger selves joyfully riding across the Mongolian steppe. In her watery eyes, he saw an inflamed yearning. She was blushing like the girl he had known back then. His guts burned. Her mesmerizing scent made his heart throb. She opened herself to him uninhibitedly, like a lotus flower.
The star-studded sky on that enchanting night and his boyish smile flashed through her mind. How she wished she could stop time.
The next day, Bumbutai summoned the real Court physician named Sima. He gave her the good news that she already knew and she bade him to announce it to the Emperor, which he gladly did. The Emperor promptly rewarded him with five gold bars for delivering such a pleasing message. He had a feeling that she would bear him a son this time and decided that he would love both these sons equally. He was proud of the fact that these sons were of royal Mongolian and Manchu parentage, believing that they would possess the best traits of both races.
Ten
When Physician Sima was leaving the Emperor’s Residence, a eunuch from Guansui Palace approached him and took him to see Consort Chen, Bumbutai’s sister. She questioned him as to what information he had just revealed to the Emperor. Seeing the look of concern on her face, the physician promptly told the truth. He was then asked when would be his next appointment with Consort Zhuang. The eunuch beside him whispered something into his ear, and the physician’s face turned a pale shade of grey instantly. He cowered and bowed his way out.
In the middle of the following month, Sima went again to see Bumbutai. He was a man of morals with an innate good heart, and he had to speak.
“Venerable,” he said in a choked-up voice, “I was instructed by Consort Chen’s eunuch to prescribe some vile herbs for you, which would cause a miscarriage if taken. I am a physician and I could never do such a thing. In order to escape the consequences of disobeying Consort Chen, I have decided to take early retirement and return to my home town. I will ask another trusted physician to take care of you in my place.”
Bumbutai shuddered. She had never imagined that her sister would do anything to harm her. She thanked the physician repeatedly for saving her unborn child’s life and asked Sumalagu to give him a piece of jewelry from her jewelry box to help with his future livelihood.
She recalled that Harjol had once told her that a man’s love was everything to her. But couldn’t she understand that the Emperor was under no obligation to be loyal to her? A consort would always be one of many consorts, no matter how beautiful or intelligent she was. But perhaps having a son could provide the mother with a more secure status. In the Manchu culture, mothers had a higher status even than wives. Harjol should be content that she had a
son that was favored by the Emperor. Her status would never be questioned for that alone. Bumbutai’s wish now was that she was carrying a boy, who would be able to protect her when he grew up. As for Harjol’s seeming heartlessness, she was ready to forgive her sister. She believed that there must be some sensible reason behind the desperate action. Sumalagu volunteered to find out.
The maid came back and told her that Harjol’s infant son had been ill for some time and all the best Court physicians had been consulted to no avail. She had been to a temple just outside the city to light incense and to pray for her son’s quick recovery. While at the temple, a Taoist monk had told her that her younger sister was carrying a male infant inside her womb who would become the true heir. Fits of depression and jealousy had driven her to the awful act. According to her maid, she had since shown remorse and had in fact sent a message to Sima on the day of his visit to Bumbutai, retracting her order. Sima had found it on his return. Harjol had sighed with relief when she learned of Sima’s honorable act and urged him to stay on in his Court post.
After hearing out Sumalagu’s report, Bumbutai went over to the Guansui Palace to pay her sister a visit. As soon as she entered the lounge, Harjol came up to embrace her.
“My sister,” she sobbed, “I am so ashamed of myself for what I did. I didn’t mean to harm you or your unborn child, Bumbutai. You have to believe me. I honestly don’t know what came over me. I beg you to forgive me. ”
Her crescent-moon eyes were doused in a morose gloom as she spoke.
“There’s nothing to forgive, dear Harjol. We all make silly mistakes when under unbearable pressure. I understand how you feel. You must have been devastated by your son’s illness. How is he now? Shall we go and see him?” Bumbutai put her arms round Harjol’s shoulders and stroked her back tenderly.