Mandarin

by Elegant, Robert;

  “Prince Kung is not named to the Council, Highness. Nor Your Highness’s brother-in-law, Prince Chun.”

  “Prince Kung not included? His favorite brother—the hero who managed the barbarians—not included? That is almost beyond belief. The weak fool! Always a weakling and a dolt, even on his death bed.”

  “I am further constrained to report that the customary lauding of the virtues of the Imperial Consorts is omitted from the Farewell Decree. Neither the Empress nor Your Highness is mentioned. Not a word for either the Senior Consort or the mother of the successor Emperor.”

  Yehenala did not reply. Before she spoke she must master the fury that dyed her cheeks scarlet under the white powder. Little An had seen her rage in the past, and he would see her rage again. But a display of wild anger at this moment could shake his confidence—and she now required his total confidence desperately.

  She had not yet attained such eminence that she could indulge her temper freely, and she might never attain that eminence. She glanced sourly at the plum robe of ceremony hanging on the mirrored cupboard. The Imperial phoenixes mocked her with their ruby eyes.

  She had never doubted that both she and the Empress would be raised to the rank of Dowager Empress. It was unthinkable that the Senior Consort of the deceased Son of Heaven should be so denied—and intolerable that the mother of the successor Son of Heaven should be so humiliated. Not only she but her son the Emperor was thus humiliated, for a reigning Emperor’s mother was always revered as Dowager Empress. Her enemies’ effrontery was beyond belief. Their arrogance was shameless—and foolhardy.

  “The Farewell Decree was written in the former Emperor’s own hand, was it not?” she asked finally. “Or at least signed by himself and authenticated with his seal?”

  “No, Highness, it was not.” Little An’s deep-set eyes glittered with malicious understanding. “He was too weak, they said, to take up the vermilion brush. And the Great Seal could not be found.”

  “How extraordinary! How extraordinary that the Great Seal of Lawfully Transmitted Authority could not be found. The Farewell Decree is, I fear, a forgery, though many men heard the former Emperor designate his successor. The former Emperor could not have failed to honor his loving consorts, could he, Little An?”

  “It is inconceivable even to my dull wits that the Son of Heaven could be so negligent, however ill.”

  “Inconceivable to me, too, Little An. And, I dare say, inconceivable to a great many others.”

  “Your instructions, Highness?”

  “Prince Kung must be warned immediately that conspirators are attempting to usurp power. You must go to Prince Kung. Before you go to Peking, I have a small errand for you.”

  “I await your command, Highness.”

  “The Imperial Guard must, of course, not be incited to indignation. The officers are all chivalrous gentlemen. They would rise against the conspirators if they knew the insult offered to two helpless widows on the morrow of their bereavement. That would never do, would it, Little An?”

  “It is impossible to keep that disgraceful act a secret, Highness.”

  “So I fear, but we must do everything we can to avert violence. Little An, you must play the peacemaker. Assure the commandant that the Farewell Decree is not valid because it lacks the Great Seal. You may inform him that the corps of eunuchs considers it a forgery.”

  “And further, Highness?”

  “Assure the commandant that the true Farewell Decree will be authenticated by the Great Seal. I speak, of course, of the Decree conferring the dignity of Empress Dowager upon the former Empress and upon the former Virtuous Concubine. The Great Seal will be found, I am sure.”

  “Empress Dowager, Highness? Not Dowager Empress?”

  “That is correct, Little An. Empress Dowager.”

  “Not Empress Dowager Regent, Highness?”

  “We must not go too fast, Little An. Later, Little An, will do very well. Though not too much later. Go now.”

  August 23, 1861

  Jehol in Manchuria

  THE IMPERIAL HUNTING PARK

  The following dawn was made brilliant by banks of silver-and-scarlet clouds. The rising sun was a fiery disk in the eastern sky while the moon still gleamed like a pearl in the west. That bright dawn closed a troubled night. The barracks of the Imperial Guard had seethed with indignation, and troops had surrounded the dwellings of the eight members of the new Council of Regency. Finally, the eight yielded to the logic of their position—and the morning was glorious.

  The Hill Manor Shunning Heat was hung with banners, and fireworks resounded to hail a Manchu ceremony that had not been celebrated in Manchuria for centuries. The five-year-old Crown Prince was proclaimed Emperor, and his Reign Name, which would date every state document, was promulgated: Chi Hsiang, Propitious Omen. The two Empress Dowagers were accorded the honors due their eminence, second in the Great Empire only to the Son of Heaven himself.

  Yehenala’s son was Emperor, and she would be rendered abject respect. She rejoiced and stroked the Imperial phoenixes on her robe. The placid senior Empress Dowager would undoubtedly be content with that ceremonial eminence. But Yehenala was not—could not—be so easily content. Her enemies were too numerous, too persistent, and too vicious.

  Yehenala’s triumph was flawed. Unless she destroyed her enemies, she could never enjoy her eminence with an untroubled mind. Though she wanted no more, she must struggle still to attain that tranquillity.

  CHAPTER 43

  September 18, 1861

  Jehol in Manchuria

  THE IMPERIAL HUNTING PARK

  “The flaw is fatal, Elder Sister—and twofold,” Yehenala explained. “Our weakness exactly matches our enemies’ weakness. If Prince Yee and Chancellor Su Shun were different, we could attain harmony, which is all you and I want. But they are rapacious. Either they perish or we do.”

  “Your talk frightens me, Little Sister,” the senior Empress Dowager replied. “Why can’t we just leave it to the men? It’s unseemly, unwomanly, to talk about killing.”

  “But seemly to die without resisting? Virtuous and womanly to go like silly sheep to the slaughter?” Yehenala snapped, but was instantly conciliatory again. “This stalemate can’t last. Think of a fat Mandarin cramming himself into a skinny beggar’s coat. Before long the coat will split, won’t it? You do see, Elder Sister?”

  She was not overstating the peril, the junior Empress Dowager reflected. She faced myriad threats, and any one could prove fatal. Yet her most perplexing problem was the plump woman etiquette required her to call Elder Sister, though she was actually a year younger. Negotiating in secret with princes, ministers, and generals was harrowing. She must win their allegiance by offering sufficient inducements, but not so much that she undermined her own position. It was nerve-racking to face down her enemies or charm them with fluttering deference. However, she enjoyed those confrontations, for the danger made her blood flow faster. Besides, she understood men and knew how to deal with them, misleading the arrogant with feigned feminine helplessness and confounding the irresolute with her decisiveness. But this pleasant woman called Niuhura was like a lion-dog puppy, too silly to frighten and too stubborn to cajole.

  “I don’t want to kill anyone,” Niuhura repeated.

  “Do you want to die?” Brutality might penetrate where reason had failed. “Do you want to sacrifice your life for the glory of Prince Yee and the multimillionaire Assistant Grand Chancellor Su Shun?”

  “We are the Empress Dowagers, Little Sister.” Niuhura reverted with pathetic dignity to the single aspect of the crisis she understood. “I’m not interested in power. Being Empress Dowager is enough for me. I want no more.”

  “Nor do I, Elder Sister.” Yehenala was quite sincere. “Except to see my son secure on the Dragon Throne and grow to manhood and rule wisely, unhampered by a Council of Regency. But there’s little hope unless you and I act boldly now.”

  “I’m confused, Little Sister. Can you explain again?
One thing puzzles me most.”

  “What is that?”

  “You say we must be bold, but you want me to approve an Edict renouncing what little power we hold. Be bold, you say. But you want to give in. Isn’t that so?”

  “It appears so. It is meant to appear so, since it’s the only way to lure our enemies into our trap.”

  “I’m afraid I still don’t understand. And I won’t place my seal on the Edict till I do. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

  “It is confusing, so many strands to this embroidery. But once you understand the pattern, everything will be clear.”

  Yehenala prayed Heaven for patience. She could forgive the senior Empress Dowager’s slowness. The woman had been born dull and never encouraged to sharpen her mind. Niuhura had been proclaimed Empress without passing through the struggle for advancement that honed the dullest wits. She could not so easily forgive Niuhura’s stubbornness, the obstinacy of weakness beside which a Shansi mule appeared eager to please.

  She must, however, break down that obstinacy. She had not exaggerated the peril that threatened them both if they appeared to oppose the usurpers’ ambitions. Prince Yee and the Assistant Grand Chancellor Su Shun would prefer to see her dead and the weak Niuhura their compliant tool. But they would cheerfully stage a fatal accident for both the ladies to whom they now bowed with ill grace if they believed both stood in their way. Niuhura’s petulant stubbornness could therefore destroy them both.

  As the day faded into evening, they sat at ease in the inner courtyard of the Palace of Perfect Satisfaction, which was now their joint residence. Niuhura, the senior, occupied the east wing because east was the superior direction, while Yehenala occupied the west wing. The stream of princes, generals, and Mandarins with whom they treated all that exhausting day had slowly dwindled and finally dried up. Their ladies-in-waiting and the eunuchs had discreetly withdrawn beyond earshot. Yet their apparent relaxation was an illusion.

  “Please be patient with me, Little Sister.” The senior Dowager responded to the resonance of Yehenala’s desperation. “I’m not as clever as you.”

  Yehenala wanted to reply: Neither as clever nor as womanly. You gave the former Emperor no heir. The present Emperor is my son, not yours. Instead, she bit her lips and, once again, strove to simplify the complex intrigue for Niuhura’s simple mind.

  “The crux is this: They’re not really Regents, whatever they may call themselves.” Yehenala found new words for the same facts. “If they were Regents, they could dispense with us. They wouldn’t care about you and me, because we’d be no threat to them.”

  As it was, she continued automatically, the Council of Eight designated by the suspect Farewell Decree required the assent of the Empress Dowagers to validate their decisions. The Council was empowered only to “advise and assist” the infant Emperor, not to act in his name. Perhaps because the Assistant Grand Chancellor Su Shun was so junior in the Imperial Clan he could not serve as a Regent, perhaps because they had not dared arrogate all power to themselves, the eight had not designated themselves Regents. They themselves could therefore not use the Imperial Seal, whose imprint was required to make their decrees law. Since both the Empress Dowagers were the legal ancestors of the child-Emperor, maternal authority reserved that essential power to them.

  The Council could not act without the Dowagers’ sanction, while the Dowagers could not initiate policy. Compromise had apparently resolved that impasse. The Dowagers would review the Rescripts, Decrees, and Edicts prepared by the Council, withholding their consent only for the gravest reasons. The Council assumed their consent would never be withheld.

  In practice, that compromise meant that Yehenala would confirm—or, infrequently, question—the decisions of the Council of Regency. Niuhura could barely read the elided language of state papers, much less understand their arcane complexities.

  The Dowagers had agreed in return that they would neither hold open court nor give private audience to any man except members of the Council. Never imagining they could not control the women, the eight thereafter behaved as if they were the child Emperor’s sole guardians in law, fully empowered to act in his name on all matters.

  “You remember, Elder Sister, when Prince Kung came to see us, don’t you?” Yehenala asked rhetorically. “It all came out then.”

  “Of course I remember. What a frightful fuss it was.”

  Furious because he—like all the former Emperor’s brothers—was excluded from the Council of Regency, Prince Kung was determined to confront the conspirators. Secure in their arrogance, they forbade him to come to Jehol to attend the preliminary obsequies for his brother, the former Emperor, and directed him to remain in the Northern Capital to “administer affairs.” After the eunuch Little An journeyed secretly to Peking, Prince Kung arrived unannounced in Jehol in mid-September. When the Council threatened him with punishment, he produced the invitation from his sisters-in-law the eunuch had brought him.

  Impotent to override the Dowagers’ authority in a family matter, the usurpers could only warn Prince Kung and his sisters-in-law to avoid private meetings, which “might arouse suspicions of impropriety or conspiracy.” They ignored that feeble threat, and, after conferring with Yehenala, Prince Kung returned to Peking—ostensibly to carry out the Council’s orders. Actually, he had agreed with Yehenala that they should take no action in Jehol. He would launch a counteroffensive as soon as he reached the Northern Capital, which was the center of his power.

  He was, Prince Kung told the Dowagers, confident of success. Not only did he command the loyalty of the Metropolitan Army, but he had secured a commitment from the British, who were still camped near Tientsin. Should the need arise, the barbarian troops would intervene to restore legitimate rule to the Empire. A new era had begun, but neither Kung nor Yehenala reflected on the irony of their requiring the support of the same army whose attack had precipitated the crisis.

  “Our brother-in-law Kung’s counterattack has been too successful.” Yehenala led Niuhura through the maze of intrigue again. “If he hadn’t been so vigorous, it would not have come up until we returned to Peking for the former Emperor’s burial. In Peking, we would have been secure. But here in Jehol we’re at their mercy if we don’t give in.”

  “The new Edict, you mean?”

  “Precisely! If he had not encouraged that Senior Censor to submit a Memorial urging us to take all power as Empress Dowagers and Regents, the Council would not have been alarmed.”

  “But there is no precedent for Empress Dowagers acting as Regents. Sacred Dynastic Law prohibits it.”

  “The Sacred Law, Elder Sister, does not prohibit Empress Dowagers Regent. Only precedent, the lack of precedent, can be argued against us.”

  “But always in the past, when the Shun Chih Emperor and even the great Kang Hsi were children, all the Regents were Princes, never the Imperial Mothers.”

  “And all those male Regents were imprisoned or executed for abusing their trust. That’s hardly an inspiring example, as the usurpers know. It’s time to try what we women can do.”

  “But, without a precedent …”

  “Chiu-lien ting-cheng … Empress Dowagers sitting behind the bamboo screen so no man may see them and administering the government. You know the expression. Precedents do exist. Under previous dynasties, Empresses did rule.”

  “So there’s this new Edict, which you want me to sign.”

  “Precisely. As you know, the Senior Censor’s Memorial not only exhorted us to conduct administration behind the screen, but also proposed that Prince Kung and Prince Chun, the former Emperor’s brothers, be designated to advise the Council. The usurpers almost broke their teeth on those stones in their rice.”

  “And they had to strike back, Little Sister. Otherwise, we’d hold all power, with our brothers-in-law Prince Kung and Prince Chun.”

  “You now understand fully, Elder Sister.” Yehenala’s head ached from the prolonged catechism. “The usurpers had to issue a new Edict, declar
ing it illegal for Empress Dowagers to rule behind the screen because there was no precedent under the Great Pure Dynasty. I’ve held out for two days, refused to put my Seal on that Decree. Now we must give in.”

  “I understand everything—except that. Why give in?”

  The veins in Yehenala’s temples pounded, and even her obtuse Elder Sister saw the angry flush under her heavy makeup. To gain time she snapped her fingers, and a eunuch brought a fresh pot of chrysanthemum tea. She sipped slowly, striving to recover her equanimity. She could not allow her temper to erupt when she was so close to her goal.

  “Because that fool of a Manchu who commands the Metropolitan Army also acted too soon,” she finally replied. “Hoping to curry favor with us, he’s placed our lives in danger. His Memorial arrived this afternoon. He supports our position completely.”

  “But that’s good, military support.”

  “We’d never live to enjoy his support. If we don’t ratify the Edict, the usurpers will kill us. It would be an accident, of course. But we’d be just as dead—and their rule would be unchallenged.”

  “But if we agree, we lose all.”

  “We must agree. We must formally renounce our rights so that the usurpers will feel secure. The funeral cortege will then depart for Peking, and Dynastic Law requires us to precede it. Once in Peking …”

  “You mean make them feel secure so we can lure them to Peking?”

  “So we can survive to lure them to Peking, where we’ll hold all the cards.”

  “I do understand now, Little Sister. We make them overconfident—and then strike back. How clever of you. You’re really clever—for a woman.”

  “Perhaps not so stupid,” Yehenala muttered to herself. “Even for a man.”

  CHAPTER 44

  October 28, 1861

  MANCHURIA, NEAR KUPEIKUO

  “Your Maternal Majesties!” Prince Yee’s voice was laden with deference. “I beseech Your Majesties’ permission to draw closer.”