Dragonkeeper

by Carole Wilkinson

  The next course was roasted meat. It didn’t taste like any meat Ping had tasted before.

  “It’s panther breast,” the Emperor told her.

  The meat was served with lotus root and sprouted beans. Ping ate in respectful silence.

  “You can talk to me, Ping,” the Emperor said. “There’s no need to be afraid of me.”

  Ping searched for something to say to the Emperor.

  “Why are you out here in the country, your imperial majesty?” asked Ping. “Instead of in Chang’an.”

  “I’m on my way to Tai Shan,” the Emperor replied.

  Ping had never heard of this place.

  “It’s the most sacred mountain in the whole empire,” he explained. “I’m going there to ask Heaven to bless my reign.”

  “I’m sure you will be a very good Emperor,” Ping said.

  The servants brought out the third course.

  “I’ve only been Emperor for a month,” said the Emperor with a weary sigh, “but I’m already bored.”

  Ping’s stomach was very full and she wished she hadn’t eaten so much turtle stew. The young Emperor’s face brightened when he saw the latest course.

  “Baked owl with peony sauce,” he said. “It’s one of my favourite dishes.”

  Ping thought it would be impolite to refuse the Emperor’s favourite dish, so she let the servant spoon some into her bowl.

  The servants were already bringing out another course. Ping recognised this one. It was barley with peas and leeks. She could only manage to swallow a mouthful. Finally the servants brought out fruit—pears, plums, persimmons. The meal was over. Ping was so full, she didn’t think she’d be able to stand up. Fortunately, the Emperor was in a talkative mood. He told her about palace life in Chang’an and asked her questions about her life at Huangling.

  “It’s good to talk to you, Ping,” said the Emperor. “I only ever have old men around me.”

  She realised that though the Emperor was surrounded by people day and night, he never had anyone he could talk to. Ping smiled. It was a new experience for her to talk to someone around her own age as well. The ministers all stayed where they were, unable to leave until their Emperor did.

  “The shamans say we must wait here at Ming Yang Lodge for an auspicious day to climb Tai Shan.” The young Emperor leaned closer to Ping. “I’ve decided to spend my time here profitably. I’ve summoned scientists from all over the empire—alchemists, herbalists, geomancers,” he said. “I haven’t told my ministers the reason yet. That’s why they’re so grumpy.”

  He grinned, looking more like a cheeky boy than an Emperor. Ping glanced at the ministers. They seemed to be very annoyed that they couldn’t hear what their Emperor was saying to her.

  “I don’t want to grow old and fat and greedy like my father,” the Emperor whispered. “I want to be a better Emperor than he was. That’s why I’ve invited the scientists here. I want them to create an elixir that will keep me young forever.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be a great Emperor,” replied Ping. She had only known the boy for a short while, but she felt in her heart that he would rule the empire well and justly. “When will the scientists be arriving?” she asked.

  “They’ll be here tomorrow.”

  Though Ping wasn’t sure that an elixir of youth was a good idea, she felt very privileged to be hearing the Emperor’s secret plans.

  “I suppose I had better retire for the night,” he said reluctantly. “I must get up very early tomorrow. I have to begin the purification ritual so that I am fit to approach Heaven. I have to throw yarrow sticks which the shamans will read to calculate the best time to climb Tai Shan.”

  “I must go and see how Danzi is,” Ping said.

  The Emperor stood up. So did all the ministers. Ping was relieved to find that, despite her extremely full stomach, she could do the same.

  ”Goodnight, Ping,” said the Emperor. “I’ve enjoyed our conversation.”

  Ping went out to the stables. The stable hands told her they hadn’t been able to catch any swallows yet, but they had given the dragon some baked fish from their own dinner.

  Danzi was hunched in the horse’s stall. The rope around his neck was fastened to the stable wall. Ping could see him looking at her new gown. She glanced guiltily at the wooden bowl that contained the dragon’s half-eaten meal. The enormous dinner that she had just eaten was lying heavily in her stomach.

  “Here.” She held out a plum that she’d saved from her meal for Danzi.

  The dragon ignored it.

  Hua appeared from behind one of the dragon’s reversed scales. He scurried over to Ping. His whiskers quivered as he sniffed the air. Ping was sure he could smell the food she’d just eaten.

  “I couldn’t bring anything for you, Hua,” she said, though in fact she hadn’t thought about the rat at all throughout the meal. “I’ll save you something from breakfast. I’m sorry. You’ll have to find your own dinner tonight.”

  The dragon made a low rumbling growl. “Too much colour confuses the eyes,” he said. Danzi was not in a good mood.

  ”You must be patient, Danzi. The Emperor will be meeting with a group of scientists tomorrow,” Ping said. “We’ll have a chance to escape then.”

  The dragon rumbled.

  Ping had never slept in a bed before. The one in her room at Ming Yang Lodge seemed wide enough for a troop of guards to sleep in. It was raised about two feet off the floor and covered with a carved canopy. She stroked the silk sheets. It took her a while to work out why there were two—one to sleep on top of, and the other to cover her. Ping put on the sacrificial shift and slid between the sheets. They felt smooth and slippery. The bottom sheet was also warm. There was no fire in Ping’s room, but the heat from a fire somewhere in the palace must have been piped to the bed. It was a cold night. There was a bear skin to cover herself with. She had never felt so warm and comfortable in her life.

  • chapter twenty •

  THE GARDEN OF SECLUDED HARMONY

  “We’ll go through the Tiger Forest,”

  she continued. “No one will dare look

  for us there.”

  The next morning Ping ate breakfast alone. There were only three courses. Ping helped herself to large portions of everything. She only ate a little though. She put the rest in a bamboo bowl that she had hidden under her gown. Then she took the food to the stables.

  “Look,” Ping said, putting the bowl in front of the dragon. “I brought you some—”

  Hua flashed out of his hiding place and had his nose buried in the food before Ping could finish speaking.

  “Don’t you want some, Danzi?” Ping asked.

  The dragon reached out a paw and picked up a morsel of meat between his talons. He sniffed it and then put it in his mouth. He chewed it slowly.

  “Have some more, Danzi,” Ping pleaded.

  The dragon shook his head. He’d hardly eaten since they’d been in Wucheng. He was looking thinner. It was as if he didn’t trust food anymore.

  “There you are, Ping,” said a voice at the stable door.

  It was the Emperor. Ping quickly stuffed Hua behind one of the dragon’s reversed scales before she turned to bow before the Emperor.

  “I was just making sure that the dragon is eating enough,” Ping said.

  “I’ve spent all morning with shamans and ministers,” the Emperor said. “I’m in need of some conversation. Come and talk to me, Ping. I’ve got a little free time before the scientists are due to arrive.”

  Ping looked at the dragon. She didn’t want to leave him alone again. She tried to think of an excuse. “I was just about to take Danzi for some exercise, your imperial majesty,” she said.

  “Excellent,” said the Emperor. “I’ll come with you.”

  Ping untied the rope and led the rumbling dragon out of the stables.

  “My mother said that the Garden of Secluded Harmony is very beautiful at this time of year,” the Emperor said. “I promised her I would
visit it.”

  Ping remembered the thin, pinched woman she had seen at Huangling.

  “Is the Empress well?” she asked politely.

  “She is still mourning my father in Chang’an.”

  Ping was relieved that the Empress wasn’t about to visit her son.

  Ping and the Emperor stepped out into the crisp morning air. Ping shivered in her thin silk gown and slippers.

  “We will need coats,” said the Emperor. The servants, who were never far away, stepped forward. “And Ping will need some stronger shoes.”

  A servant bowed and went off to do his Emperor’s bidding. He arrived out of breath with coats and shoes in less than a minute. He somehow managed to help the Emperor into his coat while remaining on his knees.

  “I don’t need you to accompany me on my walk,” the Emperor told his servants.

  It was their duty to stay with the Emperor at all times and yet they could not disobey him. They watched unhappily as the Emperor walked off down a garden path without them.

  The path led behind the house and then continued to snake up the hillside. The morning mist hadn’t yet cleared. The Yellow River was hidden from them. In fact they could only see a few feet of garden around them. The flowers were closed up, the trees dark with dew, the grottos of misshapen rocks looked even more like strange creatures looming out of the mist. Then they climbed through the mist and the top of the hill was in front of them bathed in sunlight. The path had snaked so gently up the hill that Ping had hardly noticed the climb.

  At the top of the hill the ground levelled out.

  “This is the Garden of Secluded Harmony,” the Emperor said.

  The garden was wrapped around the edges of a small irregular-shaped lake. Azaleas provided a pale purple border to the path. Above them, cherry blossoms rustled in a light breeze. A zigzag bridge led them from one side of the lake to the other. On a trellis overhead, a wisteria vine wound its way across the bridge. It was heavy with clusters of purple flowers. Wayward branches reached out and dipped toward the water. Huge orange fish circled lazily beneath the surface. Ducks bobbed and dived for food. The Emperor was peering into the water.

  “What are you looking at, your imperial majesty?” Ping asked.

  “Why don’t you call me by my name. It’s Liu Che.”

  “I don’t think I could do that, your imperial majesty,” said Ping.

  “I command you to call me Liu Che,” said the Emperor with a smile.

  Ping took a deep breath, glad that Counsellor Tian wasn’t around to hear her.

  “Why are you looking in the lake, Liu Che?”

  “There are turtles in the lake,” he replied. “Or so my mother says.”

  On the other side of the bridge, spring flowers—sky blue crocuses, daffodils, tiny snow poppies—were bursting from the dark earth.

  “I’ve never seen such a beautiful place,” said Ping.

  This wasn’t entirely true. She had seen such gardens in the paintings at Huangling Palace, but she didn’t want the Emperor to know she had been sneaking around one of his palaces. Behind her Ping could hear a faint discordant sound, as if someone was impatiently striking a gong. The dragon was not enjoying the walk as much as she was.

  They stopped and rested in a pavilion. It was a beautiful little building like a miniature palace. It was six sided and its tiny roof had six upturned corners supported by six columns. The guardians of the four quarters were painted beneath the eaves: the blue dragon of the east, the white tiger of the west, the black tortoise of the north and the red bird of the south. There were no walls. The pavilion had been built solely as a place to admire one particular tree.

  “What sort of a tree is that, Liu Che?” Ping asked.

  The tree’s slender branches were dark brown and damp. It had no leaves, but it had the largest blossoms Ping had ever seen. The buds were like pale hands clasped together. Some had opened to reveal beautiful, pure white flowers as big as goblets.

  “It’s a magnolia. Beautiful, isn’t it?” the Emperor said. “This pavilion is called Watching Magnolia Buds Open Pavilion.”

  Ping smiled. It was a perfect name for the little building. Liu Che went over and picked one of the white flowers. He gave it to Ping.

  As they walked, the mist below evaporated in the morning sun and revealed the countryside stretching off into the distance. The Yellow River snaked away to the east like a bolt of ochre cloth that someone had carelessly thrown out across the landscape. On the other side of the river, the flat plain was divided into fields—some green, some yellow, some brown. To the south, there was nothing but thick, dark foliage as far as the eye could see. The garden was designed so that the slopes of the hill weren’t visible, just the vistas around it. It was as if the garden were floating on air.

  Liu Che talked about his childhood in Chang’an.

  “We have something in common, Ping,” he said. “We both had no other children to play with when we were young.”

  “Haven’t you got brothers and sisters?” Ping asked.

  “Yes, but my brothers were sent away to rule their own kingdoms. My sister was very young when she married and went to live with her husband’s family. I spent most of my childhood with servants as my only companions.”

  “What about your parents?” Ping asked.

  “My father was always busy with imperial business. My mother has poor health and found my childish games too noisy.”

  Ping found it hard to believe. In a way the Emperor had been abandoned by his family just as she had. Though she thought it was probably a serious crime to touch the Emperor, she slipped her arm through his. Liu Che didn’t object. They walked around the edge of the lake looking for turtles.

  “I have something for you,” the Emperor said. He pulled something from his sleeve.

  Ping was speechless.

  “It isn’t a gift, Ping,” Liu Che said. “It’s yours by right.”

  Ping held out her hand and then pulled it back. She recognised the thing he was offering her.

  “It’s your seal of office, Ping,” the Emperor continued.

  It was the white jade seal that had belonged to Master Lan. It had hung from his waist by a length of greasy ribbon. On more than one occasion he had thrown it at her. Ping took the seal from the Emperor and turned it around in her hand. She had never had a chance to examine it carefully before. It was a slender rectangle less than an inch across. One end was flat and had characters carved in it. The other end had been skilfully carved into the shape of a dragon. The carving was so lifelike, she couldn’t imagine how the craftsman had managed to carve each leg, each tooth, each scale with such precision. Master Lan’s greasy ribbon had been replaced with a new purple silk ribbon. Liu Che also gave Ping a small container of seal ink. He showed her how to dip the seal into the thick red ink. He looked around for something to make an impression on. He took the magnolia flower from her hand and pressed the seal onto one of its petals. Ping noticed that the skin around the Emperor’s manicured thumbnails was chewed. The seal left a blood-red impression of two characters with a tiny dragon coiled around them.

  “I can’t read,” Ping said sadly. “What does it say?”

  “It says Imperial Dragonkeeper.”

  “But I’m not the Imperial Dragonkeeper.”

  “Yes you are. I have appointed you.”

  He handed the seal back to her.

  “Thank you, Liu Che.” Ping tied the seal to her belt.

  They walked on through the garden. A breeze stirred the air and a shower of pink drifted down from the cherry trees. The Emperor looked at the pink petals resting on his sleeves and then shook them off.

  ”I wish I didn’t always have to wear these black robes,” Liu Che complained. “They’re so dull.”

  The Emperor’s gown was made of shiny black silk embroidered with gold. Ping thought it was beautiful.

  “Can’t you wear whatever you want?” Ping asked.

  “No,” Liu Che sighed. “I have to always
wear imperial robes and everything imperial is black.”

  “Is that why palace rooftops are always black?”

  Liu Che nodded.

  “Why don’t you change the imperial colour?” Ping said.

  “I can’t do that. The imperial colour has been black for a hundred years.”

  “But you’re the Emperor, Liu Che,” Ping replied. “Can’t you do whatever you want?”

  Liu Che stopped in his tracks. “I can,” he said. “You’re right, Ping. I am the Emperor.”

  He surveyed his empire. “What shall the new imperial colour be? Something cheerful.”

  Ping looked around the garden. There were daffodils everywhere—in the garden beds, in between rocks.

  “What about yellow?” she replied. “That’s a nice bright colour.”

  Liu Che’s serious face broke into a smile. “The daffodils come out in spring, bright and cheerful after a dreary, dark winter. It’s the colour of the sun which shines on the whole empire. It’s also the colour of gold, a metal whose brightness never tarnishes. That’s the perfect colour to symbolise my reign!”

  They walked on through the garden to the Pavilion of the Auspicious Nightingale. The view from this pavilion was different. It looked out to the south where there were dense trees that stretched from the edges of the garden as far as the eye could see.

  “Ming Yang Lodge is the imperial hunting lodge,” Liu Che explained. “My father built it so that he could hunt in that forest.”

  “What sort of animals did he hunt?”

  “Deer, bears, tigers.”

  “Are there tigers here?” Ping said, looking among the trees anxiously.

  The Emperor laughed. “Not here in the garden, but in the forest.”

  “Have you seen a tiger?”

  “I’ve never seen one,” the Emperor said. “I don’t think there are many left.”

  “That’s a pity,” said Ping, though she was pleased they wouldn’t be running into any.

  “You can hear monkeys though.”

  Ping listened. She could hear a distant chattering.

  “I don’t like hunting,” the Emperor continued. “I’ve been considering turning the Tiger Forest into a park where it is forbidden to hunt. I’d like to bring other animals here—strange beasts from barbarian lands.”