Also for herself. If she conceived a man-child, she would be the paramount lady of the Great Empire. Not the amiable and weak Empress, but she, Nala of the Yehe Clan, which had from the beginning of the Dynasty been at odds with the Ruling House. Not only the adoration of the Court ladies and the twittering flattery of the eunuchs would reward her, but wealth beyond even her imagining—and transcendent power as well. She would never again demean herself before any man or woman, since the Emperor himself must treat the mother of his heir with consideration. Even at moments like this he would show consideration, rather than the recumbent condescension that now humbled her.
She knew exactly how she would use that power to crush the rebels, banish the oceanic barbarians, and make the Dynasty all-powerful again. Her devoted attention to state papers had already given her the knowledge to carry out those great tasks. The power she would wield as the mother of the heir was great. The power she might later wield as the mother of the Emperor would be immense, virtually illimitable.
This Emperor, who finally stirred under the caresses of her breasts, her hands, and her mouth, how long, she wondered, would he live? He was not robust, and his debauchery enfeebled him. To be the mother of the Emperor, that was certainly the purpose for which Heaven had fashioned her. Why else was she endowed with intelligence, knowledge, and resolution surpassing that of any other woman—or man—she knew?
The virile intensity of her vision somehow communicated itself to the Emperor. She felt a hard thrust against her breasts. His breathing grew rapid, and he moaned. Abruptly, he seized her arms and rolled her over, penetrating her in the same motion. His moans mounted to shrill cries.
Yehenala’s hips moved with his erratic rhythm, and she enfolded him with her entire body. Clasping him with her arms and her legs, she feigned rapture. He must not believe only warp-footed Chinese harlots could take great pleasure from a man and thus give him overwhelming pleasure.
Yehenala’s detachment was suddenly consumed by her own fire. She felt herself rise weightless, then slide down a silken slope of perfumed grass. She was swept away, borne upward and outward in a whirlwind of iridescent light. She screamed, and her nails raked his back.
“Nala … Lan … my Orchid,” the young Emperor whispered when she lay with her head on his shoulder, their bodies still joined by glistening perspiration.
“Majesty, it was good?” she whispered. “This slave has pleased Your Majesty!”
“Good? No, not good, but splendid. Much to Our surprise.”
“This slave is exalted by your praise.”
Yehenala bridled her resentment. His characteristic rudeness was unintended, since it would never occur to him that he could wound her. The entire Forbidden City lived as if reciting parts on a stage, for rigid Court ritual made actors of them all. She was required to mouth speeches of extravagant humility, while his role, as constraining as her own, elevated him above normal human feeling.
He was, she sensed, truly grateful—in his own way. This time he had not sat up abruptly and thrust her away as if her nearness might befoul him once her body had served its base purpose. She knew he was truly inspired by affection for her—for the moment at least.
To lie quietly entwined with the Emperor like any ordinary woman with any ordinary man once passion was spent was even more joyous than to rouse his ardor or even to receive his seed. At this moment they were one soul and one flesh. A free-spirited Manchu lady lay beside her man in equal communion as their ancestors had when male and female contributed equally to the survival of the nomadic clan. No mean-spirited Chinese woman could know such equality with any man, for those simpering females always remained inferiors. No Chinese female could, of course, ever aspire to such communion with the Son of Heaven. Sacred Dynastic Law permitted only ladies of pure Manchu blood to enter the Forbidden City and bear Imperial Princes.
Perhaps the Lord of Ten Thousand Years had sensed the love that exalted her. Perhaps his blood had responded to the unfeigned raptures that had overwhelmed her for the first time with him. Conceived in their overflowing joy, a boy child would assuredly grow in her womb.
The Lord of Ten Thousand Years. It was strange, that Chinese title derived from the ringing salutation “Wan Sui!—Live Ten Thousand Years!” which hailed only the Emperor. At Court no one might speak of the possible death of an emperor, but might say only: “When ten thousand years have passed.” At this moment, she hoped that time would be long postponed. But there would be a future even after ten thousand years had passed, and that future must belong to her.
“This time, Nala, from Our great pleasure an heir must spring.” Having surprised her with his tenderness, the Emperor astonished her with a jest: “This time, after all, will be recorded and certified with the Great Seal … unlike some other times We and you … This time, We are certain, an heir—or next time. The omens require Us to lie with you often this week. An heir, by Heaven, an heir.”
“I pray so, Majesty. I shall offer a magnificent gift to the Goddess of Mercy from the little I possess.”
“Do so, Nala. Even a woman’s prayers can sometimes help.”
The Emperor did not rise to the lure. However amiable he might be, he was rarely generous and never impulsively generous. But gold she must have, gold to buy the offerings of jade, silk, and emeralds that would move Kwan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, to give a boy child to her devotee Yehenala. Gold she must have, also, for her mother and her sister. And much gold to cement the good will of the Court eunuchs, who fluttered through the Forbidden City like greedy magpies, making and breaking reputations with their ceaseless gossip.
Sometimes, it seemed, not the Emperor, but the Court eunuchs really ruled the Forbidden City, which ruled the Great Empire. She herself liked those mincing, light-minded creatures, and she got on well with them. But, finally, it always came down to gold to ensure that their cordiality did not turn to spite, which could destroy even an empress, much less a nineteen-year-old concubine of the lowest grade. Above all, she needed gold to win promotion.
This week she actually possessed gold beyond her immediate needs. Her Senior Eunuch had ten days earlier brought her fifty taels to sweeten a discreet request from her old playmate, the Baronet Jung Lu. She had smiled at the fond message from the dashing officer, and she had, of course, not asked how many taels he and her Senior Eunuch had kept for themselves. Although she had, naturally, promised nothing, this was, perhaps, the moment to seek the favor Jung Lu desired—and to acquire more of the gold she needed badly.
“We have not gone to war, My Lord.” She stroked his chest and began circuitously. “But the barbarians, they grow more presumptuous and more aggressive every day.”
“So soon to affairs of state, Nala?” The Emperor’s smile reassured her that he intended a pleasantry, not a reprimand. “Yes, it must be that We summoned you for your sage advice too. So much wisdom in such a small woman’s head. We have missed your counsel. Our ministers only confuse Us with twisted subtlety and mock profundity.”
“Your Majesty is far more subtle and profound than all the Senior Mandarins rolled together.”
“Rolled together? Sometimes We wish We could roll them all together—roll them all together over a cliff, so We’d have a little peace.”
“What a beautiful sight, all the pompous do-nothings tumbling over a cliff.” She laughed, and her small teeth gleamed in the rosy light. “The Chinese cowards weeping, the Manchus too stupid to know what’s happening. Very comic. What has happened to Your Majesty’s courageous Manchu counselors? They’re like foolish women … almost as effete as the Chinese Mandarins.”
“You must not speak so of Our faithful Manchu retainers. They try hard, but the Chinese—with their contrived complications—always find reasons for doing nothing.”
“This slave is deeply contrite, Majesty, at forgetting her lowly place in her indignation.” Yehenala abased herself before the Emperor’s febrile anger could flare and singe her. “Does Your Majesty refer to the plan to carry
the war to the barbarians?”
“Plan for war? Yes, We suppose so. The Empire is not strong enough to confront the barbarians, Our ministers say. Bide Our time, they advise.”
“I remember well Your Majesty’s resolution. Only a little more than a year ago in the Pavilion of Auspicious Twilight in the Garden of Crystal Rivulets.”
“It’s only a matter of time, Nala. Then We shall crush the barbarians, destroy their filthy machines and their poisonous trade. Lust for gold can corrupt even the proud Manchu spirit.”
“Truly, Majesty.” Yehenala hid her face against his shoulder to conceal the ravages her abandon had made in her makeup. “But something must be done now.”
“What do you suggest, since you’re so wise?” With the afterglow of passion fading, the Emperor was becoming testy. “What do you suggest?”
“Your Majesty in his transcendent power …” Her voice was muffled by his flabby flesh. “Your Majesty can act despite the bumbling Mandarins.”
“What do you have in mind, Nala?” She stroked his chest again, and the Emperor smiled playfully. “You’re plotting something. I sense it.”
“Only a little thing, Majesty, a little thing spun in a small woman’s head.” Yehenala played to his skittish mood. “But it could be effective … in a small way.”
“And that is?”
“Majesty, Shanghai is the center of the barbarians’ assault.” She spoke with care, knowing how ephemeral his good humor could be. “A strange thing happened in Shanghai. Your Majesty’s wisdom will know how to turn it to the Empire’s advantage.”
“Yes, what is it? Stop babbling like a minister and tell me.”
“I am honored by Your Majesty’s patience. I thought … a way to fool the barbarians … deceive them by benevolence. Lulled, they won’t press so hard. Meanwhile, Your Majesty’s resolution will prepare a bold stroke.”
“Nala, what happened in Shanghai?”
“A Chinese merchant is to be beheaded for filial impiety. They say he caused his mother’s suicide.”
“What’s remarkable about that? It could happen any day.”
“Majesty, there are two unusual points. The man’s guilt is disputable. The magistrate conceded that. Also, he’s close to the barbarians—actually a barbarian’s business partner.”
“If his guilt is disputable, the Appellate Courts will see to it. Why in Heaven’s name should We interest Ourselves in a subject, probably disloyal, who serves the barbarians for profit?”
“This slave fears she tries Your Majesty’s patience—and trembles. Just … I thought … a way to throw dust in the barbarians’ eyes. May I speak further?”
Yehenala knew her petition had failed. Nonetheless, she hastily described the trial of Aisek Lee. She was committed to stating the case, since she would arouse his suspicion if she desisted. But she would not try the Emperor’s volatile temper by pressing the issue.
“So this Lee was arrested after meeting with the Small Swords,” the Emperor mused. “Not only an accomplice of the barbarians, but of the rebels, too.”
“In fairness, Majesty, Lee did not serve the rebels in any way.” Although anxious to remedy her strategic error, Yehenala was too canny to withdraw immediately and confirm his suspicion regarding her motives. “He was not charged with that.”
She sketched a circle on his hairless chest. Her three-inch fingernails rasped as they flexed, and the Emperor giggled.
“This slave is deeply ashamed, Majesty.” Yehenala began her tactical retreat. “She has erred grievously. Lee is certainly a traitor as well as a running dog of the barbarians. He undoubtedly drove his mother to suicide. I crawl before Your Majesty and plead forgiveness for a stupid woman’s foolish fancies.”
“You do change fast, Nala, but you are not stupid …”
“Think no more of it, Majesty,” she pleaded. “Instead, perhaps … Your glorious vigor is reviving. Majesty, only forgive, though this slave has erred unforgivably.”
“We are not so sure, Nala,” the Emperor mused. “There’s merit in your stratagem. You know We are advised to placate the barbarians. A gesture, say a pardon for this Lee, could disarm them, divert them from pressing to live in the interior. Perhaps even divert their demand to send ambassadors to the capital. Some of Our advisers even say We should encourage Our people to trade with the barbarians—on Our terms, not theirs.”
“With humblest respect for your ministers, Majesty, that is nonsense.”
Savaged by the trap she had set for herself, Yehenala momentarily wondered which side to champion. She must, she decided, speak only from conviction and not alter her position again. No longer was only the life of this obscure merchant Lee at stake, but her own position.
“How strange, Nala. Now you respect Our ministers.” The Emperor enjoyed her confusion. “You are changeable today, even for a woman.”
“Majesty, I erred. Now, with Your Majesty’s guidance, I see how foolish I was,” she said. “Your Majesty should not placate the barbarians. Not encourage trade or give them the life of a traitor and murderer. Ambassadors in Peking? Never! The Empire must drive out the barbarians.”
“Nala, some ministers feel We should do the opposite … for the moment.” The Emperor had lost interest in Aisek Lee, but not in the vital matter of managing the barbarians. “Some say the Empire can learn from them. Learn to make and use their rifles, their cannon, and their armored steamships.”
“What has the Empire to learn from the barbarians?” Although Yehenala knew this intrigue had taken her beyond her depth, her tenacity and the gambler’s recklessness that belied her shrewdness drove her to one last effort. “Your Majesty means to lull the barbarians by a pardon?”
“By other means, Nala, by other means. We have decided that this case is closed, though We are pleased that you brought it to Our notice. Few would dare do so. They think Us capricious and rigid, We know. We are touched by your loyalty in daring to speak out, however wrongheadedly.”
“This slave is profoundly grateful for Your Majesty’s forbearance. I only meant well. But I know I was wrong.”
“Not so wrong, Nala, not so wrong. But this is not the way to throw dust in the barbarians’ eyes. Lee’s crimes make Our head spin with anger. We shall not interfere, but We pray the Higher Judges sentence him to immediate execution—no nonsense about after the Assizes.”
“Your Majesty forgives this slave’s mistake?” She still feared he was toying with her. “My stupidity does not make Your Majesty look upon me as a useless woman?”
“The contrary, Nala, the contrary.” The Emperor was delighted with his own sagacity. “Your loyalty and courage make Us value you more highly.”
“I abase myself at Your Majesty’s feet in gratitude.”
Yehenala felt she had received the reprieve she sought in vain for Aisek Lee. Her tongue flicked in the Emperor’s ear, and her nails stroked his thigh.
“That’s not Our feet, Nala.” The Emperor laughed in high good humor. “And you’ve not heard all We have to say.”
“There is more, Majesty?” Fear gripped her throat.
“There is more. To reward your devotion and your courage, We have decided to advance you two grades. You are now Ping, concubine of the third grade.”
The Hsien Feng Emperor half-heard her exultant cry, for he was absorbed in admiration of his own cleverness. By promoting this concubine, he had calmed her mind so that she would conceive. He had also awakened the nan chi, the ambitious male spirit latent in her. She would certainly bear a man-child, an heir to the Dragon Throne.
August 9, 1855
PEKING
The next afternoon, the Baronet Jung Lu listened to the report of Yehenala’s Senior Eunuch with slight disappointment and keen amusement. He exulted when the eunuch told him Yehenala’s promotion would soon be promulgated. She would be a friend at court to him—a great friend.
A pity about this fellow Lee, but he was, after all, only a Chinese merchant. Besides, there was no reason why they co
uld not squeeze at least another seventy-five taels out of the son. Heaven was bountiful. And who knew better than he how to enjoy Heaven’s bounty?
CHAPTER 18
September 17, 1855
PEKING
Though man-made, the topography of Peking now seemed as perfect to Aaron Lee as if it had been decreed by Heaven or by Saul Haleevie’s God. Quite curiously, that Almighty Ruler of the Universe concerned Himself little with China, except for the few of His Chosen People He had settled so far from His normal earthly domain. Aaron did not concern himself with the discrepancy between the One True God’s attention to lesser lands and his countrymen’s conviction that China was All Under Heaven. It was enough to recognize the earthly beauty and the spiritual perfection of Peking, the Northern Capital. Thus, it seemed, had it ever been, though he knew the city had not taken its present form until the Yung Lo Emperor of the Ming Dynasty chose to make it the center of the Great Empire four and a half centuries earlier, relegating Nanking, the Southern Capital, to second rank.
Aaron’s perception of the city had altered during the nerve-wracking months between his arrival and this misty morning of September 17, 1855. He no longer saw a welter of squalid houses on mean lanes, but an enormous park on a gridiron of broad boulevards set with monumental structures. Modeled on Changan, the capital of the Tang Dynasty, the meticulously planned city was almost mathematically symmetrical. Its regular perfection was accentuated by green plazas and emphasized by the irregular contours of man-made lakes.
The Northern Capital was actually three concentric cities, the outermost within a four-mile square bounded by moats and massive walls. In that city’s northern quarter lay the Imperial City, a moated and walled enclosure a half-mile square. At the heart of the Imperial City stood the walls of the Forbidden City, where the Emperor lived among a thousand palace women and many thousand court eunuchs. All the many palaces and all the chief gates faced south, so that the Son of Heaven always looked upon his people from the north, the supreme point of the compass. All public buildings in Peking looked south, as did numerous temples behind lacquered arches like those that spanned the tree-lined boulevards. To the south of those three great enclosures, occupying the position of inferiority and supporting them like the base of a column, lay the Chinese City.
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