Isle of Woman (Geodyssey)

by Piers Anthony

  “I—I don’t know, Lady.”

  “Would you like to appear before him so?”

  “No!” Lotus said. Then, embarrassed again: “No offense, Lady.”

  “None at all. Therefore you understand my problem. I would like to have a good wig, to appear in public, until my hair grows back. Do you think you could get one for me?”

  “I—my grandmother could, I think.”

  “But I would prefer not to have this widely known. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  “Here is money. Get me a wig, without anyone knowing whom it is for.” The woman gave her several coins.

  Lotus looked at the coins, startled. They were gold. She had never seen so much money at one time. “Yes, Lady,” she said. “I—right away?”

  Zhao nodded.

  Lotus clutched the coins and turned away. In the hall she encountered the head monk. “She rejected you?” he asked, disappointed.

  “No, I—I have to see my grandmother about something. Something I forgot.” She hurried on down the hall, leaving the monk staring after her.

  In the front chamber she found Ember and went quickly to her. “Grandmother, she needs a wig. Can you get it?”

  “A wig? Why, I don’t know—”

  “She gave me this to buy it.” Lotus showed her the gold coins. “She—she doesn’t want it known.”

  Ember took the coins. “Wait here, Lotus.” She gave her a hug and walked quickly out of the chamber.

  Lotus remained where she was, fidgeting. She was afraid that the monk would come and ask her exactly what it was she had forgotten. She thought she shouldn’t tell him, but as a Buddhist herself she wasn’t sure it was right to hide anything from such a high person. Was she doing right by concealing her mission?

  She saw a statue of the Buddha in an alcove. She went to stand before it. She bowed, this time managing not to stumble. She focused on the figure, meditating. O Enlightened One, she thought. Show me the way.

  The statue seemed to blur before her. Follow the Eightfold Path.

  She focused on that. The Eightfold Path required right view, which she took to mean that she should look at the problem in the right manner. But what was the right manner? All she could think of, in this case, was to trust the preference of the Lady Zhao and do what she wished. That made the other requirements of the Eightfold Path fall into line: Right intention—she really wanted to do the right thing. Right speech—she was saying nothing. Right action—she was getting the wig. Right livelihood—she was taking a special job and thereby maybe helping her family. Right effort—she was trying to do the right thing. Right mindfulness—oh, she hoped that was what this was. And right concentration—what she was doing now.

  You are a child, the Buddha’s thought came. You have much to learn. But follow the Middle Path, avoid extremes, and you will in time find enlightenment.

  “Oh, I will, I will!” she breathed. “I’ll try as hard as I can!”

  She bowed again. The statue returned to clear focus, and she knew the interview was over. But now she had confidence that she was doing the right thing.

  She turned to face the center of the chamber. The monk stood there. He was as forbidding as before, but now her fear of him was muted. Buddha was with her.

  Then her grandmother returned. Lotus realized that more time had passed than she had realized. Her communion with the Buddha had seemed brief, but could have been extended. Time did not have the same meaning to the Buddha.

  Ember gave her a package and two coins. Then she hugged Lotus again. “I will try to see you at the court, or your mother will,” she murmured. “I know you will do well, my child.” Yet her reassurance was belied by the tiny twitch in her cheek, which appeared when she was under tension.

  Lotus stifled her tears again, then went bravely back down the hall to the Lady’s chamber. She knew it would be some time before she saw her grandmother again, and longer before she saw the rest of her family. But it seemed that it was going to be all right.

  The Lady Zhao seemed not to have moved in the interim. Lotus went up to her and proffered the package. “Here—my grandmother got it. And here—she did not need the other two coins.” She opened her hand to proffer them too.

  Zhao accepted the package and coins. “Your grandmother is an honest woman,” she remarked.

  “Oh, yes, Lady!” Lotus agreed enthusiastically. “And my mother, too. She is a scribe.”

  “But I think not a wealthy one.”

  “Business has not been good,” Lotus agreed.

  “There are those who would have kept the coins.”

  “My family never cheated anyone!” Lotus said hotly. Then, realizing that she had spoken intemperately, she blushed. The Lady only smiled.

  Zhao opened the package. Inside was a fine dark wig with remarkably natural-looking hair. Zhao stood before the mirror and put the wig on her bald head, adjusting it. “Yes, this will do,” she agreed. “Your grandmother has excellent taste.”

  She turned, and Lotus saw her full face, framed by the locks of the wig, and two braids trailing down her back. “Oh, you are beautiful!” Lotus exclaimed.

  “Thanks to you—and your grandmother,” Zhao said. Then she removed the wig, becoming bald again. “Wrap this and carry it for me.”

  “You aren’t going to wear it?” Lotus asked, surprised.

  “It would not be expedient to wear it here,” Zhao said. “But when we depart these premises, I will don it, knowing its quality.”

  “Oh.” Lotus set about wrapping the wig, making sure not to damage any of its fine hair.

  “Tell me of you and your family,” Zhao said.

  “We aren’t special. I’m Lotus Flower—”

  “Ah, you are of the T’ien-t’ai persuasion of Buddhism, then.”

  “Yes, Lady. How did you know?”

  “I am long familiar with the Lotus Sutra. There is hidden meaning in the texts that can be understood only by subjective interpretation and meditation. How could I fail to recognize a child of the Lotus?”

  “Oh. Yes, of course,” Lotus agreed, embarrassed to have forgotten this aspect of her name. “And my mother is Crystal, and my father is Carver, and my grandmother who brought me here is the widow Ember. We have a printing shop, and my father carves the letters and the pictures for the print blocks.”

  “So your mother is literate. Can you read too?”

  “Some,” Lotus agreed shyly. “But there are so many symbols.”

  “Each with its own meaning,” Zhao agreed. “Just as each person has her own meaning.”

  “She does?”

  Zhao laughed. “Are you not an individual, little Lotus? Different from any other girl?”

  “Oh. Yes. I’m myself. But I’m no one.”

  “Can you keep a secret, Lotus?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone about the wig—except my grandmother,” Lotus said quickly. “And I know she didn’t, either.”

  “I mean a secret of past experience. You are ten?”

  “Twelve,” Lotus said. “I am small for my age, and—and not yet a woman.”

  “Old enough to have discretion, I think. I will tell you my secret. When I first came to the Imperial palace as the Son of Heaven’s concubine, I was not a lot older than you. Barely fourteen. My cousin was a favorite, and she got me in. I was very shy, like you.”

  “You were a—a what?” Lotus asked, thinking she had misheard.

  “A woman for the Son of Heaven’s bed,” Zhao said. “Did they not tell you about that?”

  “They said you were a Lady of the court.”

  Zhao smiled. “A courtesan. I see your confusion. Such ladies of the court serve the sexual will of the master. But here is one secret: there were many other concubines, and I was young and inexperienced and beneath notice. The Son of Heaven never used me—not in nine years, until he died.”

  “Never? Then why did he keep you there?”

  “The Son of Heaven must never lack for company. Ha
d he had a whim, he might have taken me. I had to be ready, along with all the others, just in case. That is the way of the typical concubine.”

  “It must have been dull.”

  “Yes, at times. Extremely. But I was well cared for, and I learned the secrets of beauty and performance from the others, and perhaps the prince liked me.”

  “The prince?”

  “The Prince of Jin, the Son of Heaven’s third son. He was three years younger than I. Younger than you, when I first saw him. Now he is the Son of Heaven Kao Tsung. He has recalled me to court.”

  “Oh, then he did like you!” Lotus agreed. “That’s nice.”

  “Very nice. Now I am to be his concubine. And you will be my companion, helping me make my way at court.”

  “Oh, I don’t know anything about the court,” Lotus protested. “I’ve never even been to the palace.”

  Zhao smiled. “That is I think one reason I can trust you. You were not brought up in the ways of court intrigue. You are a simple Buddhist girl, straightforward and innocent.”

  “Yes,” Lotus agreed.

  “But you will learn. I want you to listen always, but speak only to me of what you hear. Especially if it should concern me.”

  “People will talk of you?”

  “Very likely,” Zhao said, with an obscure expression.

  “Well, I should be able to do that. I like you.”

  Zhao smiled. “And I like you, little Lotus. I think we shall be friends.”

  “But I’m only a common girl,” Lotus protested.

  “So was I, once. Come, let us contemplate Buddha while we wait for the carriage.”

  “The carriage?”

  “To take us to the palace. Have no fear, Lotus, you will ride with me, and you will live with me at the palace. You will answer to no one else.”

  “That’s nice.” Lotus didn’t mind doing things, but didn’t want to be confused about to whom she should answer.

  They contemplated Buddha together, facing the little bronze statue on a shelf on the wall. Lotus was glad the Lady Zhao was a Buddhist; it made it ever so much easier. But of course that was no coincidence; the Lady had asked for a Buddhist child. She wanted someone she could trust.

  The monk appeared. “The Imperial carriage is here.”

  Zhao gathered her cloak and hood about her. She approached the monk. She kissed him on the mouth. Then she moved on, leaving him standing much like a statue. Lotus followed, carrying the package. She realized that she had just seen something she should keep secret. So she pretended not to notice.

  Outside, the carriage was waiting. It had four large wheels and an arching canopy. Zhao swept up to it, and the driver drew open the canopy for her. She mounted the set of steps before it, and Lotus started to follow.

  “You walk behind!” the driver snapped at Lotus, making her jump.

  Zhao paused. Her head turned to orient on the man, her eyes seeming almost to glow within her hood. He stepped back as if struck, though she had spoken no word. Then she moved her fingers, signaling Lotus forward, and Lotus climbed the steps to join her.

  They got into the carriage, where there was a padded bench, and sat beside each other. The canopy aperture fell closed. They were isolated within the silken enclosure. “You will separate from me only when I tell you to,” Zhao murmured. “Ignore all others.”

  “Yes, Lady,” Lotus breathed, gratified.

  The carriage started, its wheels crunching over the pavement. Lotus found the motion pleasant. She had seldom ridden in any wagon, and never in anything as fancy as this.

  Zhao held out her hand. Lotus put the package in it. Zhao opened it and carefully donned the wig. “I have no mirror here. You must be the judge: is it satisfactory?”

  “It’s a little to the side,” Lotus said.

  Zhao adjusted it until it was right. Now she was beautiful again.

  “But won’t they know, at the palace?” Lotus asked. “I mean, because all monks and nuns are shaved?”

  “They will know, but also know why I use it. I am no longer a nun. This is the symbol of my liberation.”

  “If I may ask—why did you go to the nunnery, Lady?”

  “When the Son of Heaven died, his entourage of wives and concubines was disbanded. Some went home to their families. Some died. I was in an awkward position, because the prince liked me.”

  “But wasn’t it good for him to like you?”

  “Not when I was pledged to his father. So there were those who thought perhaps I, too, would be better off dead, so as to provide the prince no distraction as he married and set up his household. So I thought it expedient to retreat to a place where I would be no threat to anyone, and I went into seclusion and entered training to be a nun.”

  “I thought no monk or nun ever returned to ordinary life,” Lotus said.

  “They seldom do,” Zhao agreed. “But exceptions are made, especially by the will of the court.”

  “The Son of Heaven must like you a lot, to summon you back.”

  “Not exactly. I am sure he does not object, but it was the Empress Wang who summoned me.”

  “The empress! His wife? She wants you to—to—?”

  Zhao laughed. “Lotus, we of the north are generally monogamous, and rightly so, unlike those tasteless creatures of the south. But the court is its own custom. The empress can hardly be expected to constantly attend her husband in bed, in the manner of an ordinary wife. How could she get her rest, and how would she keep him from becoming bored? Especially when she gets with child? So the Son of Heaven maintains a staff of concubines, perhaps one for each day of the month, to satisfy his every whim. I will be one among many, as I was before.”

  “Oh, so he won’t actually use you.”

  The Lady made her obscure smile. “I wouldn’t say that. The empress wishes him to use me, so as to distract him from another courtesan who may be gaining too much influence. She remembers that he did like me, and hopes that he will like me again, and lose interest in the other woman.”

  Lotus had trouble working this out. “There is a concubine for every day of the month, and each is lovely and talented and eager to share his bed, but he doesn’t notice them, yet you who were ignored before must distract him from his favorite?”

  “That is the case, Lotus. Do you think I can manage it?”

  “Lady, forgive me if I affront you, but if he knows you are bald—”

  “A challenge indeed,” Zhao agreed. “Yet I shall try my best to please the empress in this respect, to vindicate her judgment.”

  “Lady, I am afraid for you!”

  Zhao met her anxious gaze. “May I share another secret with you?”

  Lotus was nonplussed. “It is not for me to give you permission for anything, Lady!”

  “Oh, but perhaps it is, if we are friends. There is no difference of status between friends.”

  “There isn’t?”

  “When we are alone, we are friends,” Zhao said firmly. “When we are among others, we are not. That is one secret.”

  “It is?” Lotus feared she was being mocked.

  “And the other secret is that I, too, am afraid for me. If I should fail the empress, after she has gone to the trouble to pry me from the nunnery, my head might alleviate her embarrassment.”

  “You must succeed!” Lotus exclaimed, freshly alarmed.

  “The Buddha willing, perhaps I will.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence. Lotus’s mind was in turmoil. The Son of Heaven’s wife herself had summoned a Buddhist nun to the court to distract her husband from another concubine. What a strange business!

  The carriage stopped moving. They had arrived at the Imperial City. In a moment the driver came around to draw open the canopy. Zhao stood and stepped out, and Lotus followed closely.

  They were before the main palace, a huge elegant building built of precious wood, with many upcurving roofs, overhanging balconies, and bright red support posts. It was so impressive that Lotus simply stared,
her mouth slack.

  Zhao gently touched Lotus’s chin, lifting it up to close her mouth. “It is impressive,” she agreed. “But we will not live here. This is only for my rendezvous with the empress.”

  They walked up the massive central staircase. It seemed to take forever, because of the scale of the building. Lotus had never expected to come this close to the palace, let alone enter it.

  At the top of the steps they turned to the side and followed a walkway to a smaller building that was part of the palace complex. Here a truly regal woman awaited them: surely the empress!

  “No, only a matron,” Zhao murmured, anticipating her thought. “The Empress Wang would not sully her hands on such business directly.”

  So it was. The woman outfitted them both with far more decorative gowns, so that Lotus looked like the daughter of a king and Zhao looked like a queen. Indeed, Zhao’s splendid figure now manifested in a way it had not within the nun’s cloak, and Lotus began to understand how she could hope to win the favor of the Son of Heaven away from another woman. She was the most beautiful woman Lotus had ever seen.

  Zhao smiled, and achieved the impossible: yet more loveliness. “I was going to ask your opinion, Lotus, but I think you have already given it.”

  “Oh, yes, Lady!” Lotus breathed. “In all the world, there can not be a woman more splendid than you!”

  Zhao’s mouth quirked. “Thanks to your wig, perhaps.”

  “Oh, no, Lady! Your face, your body—” She broke off, realizing she was being teased.

  They proceeded to the residence of the concubines. This was a series of separate chambers, with a concourse leading to a larger common room. The surrounding grounds were parklike, a delight to see, with decorative fruit and nut trees and shaped shrubs. It was a considerable contrast to the crowded and often dirty alleys of the city where Lotus had lived. Elegant young women walked through these grounds, conversing with each other or congregating at tables for games. Each seemed lovelier than all the others, but none as lovely as the Lady Zhao.

  A servant guided them to one chamber among many. There was a nice bed for Zhao, and a corner with cushions for Lotus to sleep. “This is our room,” Zhao said. “Now that we have taken possession, no other person may enter without my permission. Should you be annoyed by someone elsewhere, come here and she will not follow. In my absence, only you have access, and only you will have authority to allow entrance by any other, even if she be a Lady.”