“If only my nephew were a strong man,” she sighed. “How gladly then would I entrust the people’s destiny to him!”
“But he is not a strong man, Majesty,” the eunuch whispered. “He is weak and willful. He listens to the arch rebels among the Chinese and refuses to recognize their plots. He destroys the dynasty without knowing what he does.”
She could but agree that this was true, yet she could not give the secret command for which the greedy eunuch waited.
That day she paced the terrace of the palace and she gazed across the lotus-filled waters to the island upon which her nephew was imprisoned. Yet how could a palace be called a prison, for though it had only four rooms, they were large and comfortably furnished and the surrounding air was calm and pleasant. She could see her nephew even now as he wandered about the narrow island, and with him, though at a distance, were the ever-watchful eunuchs who guarded him.
It was time to change those eunuchs and put others in their place lest if any stayed more than a month or two, their sympathies might be stirred toward the young man whom they guarded. Thus far they had been faithful to her, and each night one or the other copied the diary which her nephew wrote every day. Into the night she read what he wrote and knew to the last beat of his heart, the last thought of his mind, what he felt. Only one eunuch did she doubt somewhat and he was surnamed Huang, for he gave always too good a report of his charge. “The Emperor spends his time reading the good books,” Huang always said. “When he is tired he paints or he writes poetry.”
While she paced to and fro upon her terrace, she considered what Li Lien-ying had said this day. Then abruptly she rejected it. No, it was not time yet for her nephew to die. The blame for his death must not lie upon her who had chosen him. It was true that she wished him dead but it was not crime only to wish. Let his death wait upon Heaven.
When next Li Lien-ying came into her presence she was cold to him and coldly she said, “Do not speak to me again of the Emperor’s journey to the Yellow Springs. What Heaven wills Heaven itself will do.”
These words she said in so stern a voice that he bowed in obeisance to show that he would be obedient.
Yet who could have dreamed that the Chinese rebels would somehow contrive to find their secret way to the ear of the lonely young Emperor? Through the eunuch Huang they did so. One morning in the tenth moon month of that year the young Emperor escaped from his eunuch guards and fled through the pine woods on the north side of the island to a small inlet where a boat waited. But a eunuch saw his flying robes through the trees and cried out and all the eunuchs ran fast as feet could hasten and they caught the Emperor as he was about to step into the boat and they held his robes and besought him not to escape.
“For if you escape, Son of Heaven,” they pleaded, “Old Buddha will have us all beheaded.”
No other plea could serve so well. The Emperor had a tender heart and he hesitated while the boatman, who was a rebel in disguise, shouted to him that he must not delay, that the lives of the eunuchs were of no worth. But the Emperor looked down into the faces of the imploring eunuchs and among these was one young eunuch, a lad scarcely more than a child, gentle and kind, who had always stayed near his royal master night and day to serve him. And looking down upon this weeping lad the Emperor could not step into the boat. He shook his head and the boatman, not daring to delay longer, rowed his boat into the silent mists of dawn.
The sad tale was carried to the ears of the Empress, and she listened and did nothing, seemed to do nothing, but she put the story into her heart to remember against the Emperor. And meanwhile she allowed to be put to death every rebel and prince and minister who had supported the Emperor. But him she let live, for she had her weapon. So deeply did her subjects revere the ancient wisdom of Confucius, that she needed only to remind them that the Emperor had plotted to kill her and they would cry him a traitor. And she knew that the young Emperor knew this was her weapon, and indeed, she could twist it in his own heart, for he had a tender conscience, and he too still reverenced the Sage.
For her mercy Jung Lu commended her. Again he asked for private audience and he said: “While it is true, Majesty, that the people would never condone a plot against you, yet they would not revere you were you to allow the life of the Emperor to be taken, even by accident. He must be imprisoned, I acknowledge, for he will be the tool of your enemies, but grant him every courtesy. Let him appear at your side when you receive the envoy from Japan, ten days hence, and let him appear when envoys come from the outer territories. You, Most High, can afford every act of grace and kindness. Let me even suggest that the Pearl Concubine—”
But here she put up her two hands to signify silence. The very words “Pearl Concubine” were not to be spoken in her presence. She gazed at him in cold stillness and he said no more. She was sometimes Empress and sometimes woman, and this day he saw only the Empress.
“I will speak of other matters,” he said. And he spoke on thus:
“While there is peace now in the realm, yet the people are restless. They show angers here and there and against the white men first of all. An English priest has been murdered by mobs in Kweichow province. This will bring the English hornets again about the Throne. They will demand indemnities and concessions.”
The Empress flew into lively rage. She clenched her hands and struck her knees three times. “Again these foreign priests!” she cried. “How is it they will not stay at home? Do we send our priests wandering over the earth to destroy the gods of other peoples?”
“They are the fruit of the defeats we have suffered in battle with the Western men,” Jung Lu reminded her. “We have been forced to allow their priests and traders to enter our ports together.”
“I swear I will have no more of these persons,” the Empress declared. And she sat brooding, her beautiful eyes darkened by frowns and her red mouth sullen. She forgot that Jung Lu stood before her or pretended that she did, and seeing her mood he made obeisance and went away and she did not so much as lift her head.
In the last month of that year still another foreign priest was murdered, this time in the western province of Hupeh, and he was not killed cleanly and swiftly but with beatings and bone-twistings and skin-slicing. In the same month mobs of villagers and city dwellers rose against foreign priests in the province of Szechuen, and this was because of old rumors creeping over the nation that the priests were also sorcerers, that they stole children and made medicine from their eyes, and ground their bones to make magic brews.
The Empress was beside herself, for when their citizens were killed, the foreign envoys became arrogant and threatening and declared that their governments would make war unless there were full retribution. Indeed, the whole world seemed to stir against her. Russia, England, France and Germany were muttering and dissatisfied. France, whose priests had been several times killed, now sent word through her envoys that she would attack with her ships of war unless she were granted a piece of land as a concession in Shanghai. Portugal, too, demanded more land surrounding Macao, and Belgium insisted that the price of two Belgium priests murdered must be a concession of land at Hankow, that great port upon the Yangtse River. Japan meanwhile was plotting for the rich and fruitful province of Fukien and Spain grumbled thunder upon the horizon, for a Spanish priest had been among those dead. Italy was angriest of all and her envoys demanded the concession of Samoon Bay in the province of Chekiang, the finest Chinese territory.
Upon such disaster, the Empress summoned her ministers and princes for special audience, and she sent for her general Li Hung-chang to come from the Yellow River, where she had ordered him to rebuild the dikes against a flood.
The day of audience was hot, and a sandstorm blew from the northwest. The air was stifled with fine sand, and while the princes and ministers waited for the Empress they held their kerchiefs to their faces and closed their eyes against the sand. But when the Empress appeared, she seemed not to know the presence of the storm. She was in her most regal robe
s, and when she descended from her imperial sedan and walked to the Dragon Throne, leaning upon the arm of Li Lien-ying, she compelled all by her proud indifference to take the kerchiefs from their faces and fall in obeisance before her. Only Jung Lu was not present and she marked his absence in an instant.
“Where is the Grand Councilor, my kinsman?” she demanded of Li Lien-ying.
“Majesty, he sent word that he was ill. I think he is ill because you have sent for Li Hung-chang.”
This dart of malice implanted in her mind, he stepped back and she proceeded with stately grace to open audience. One by one she called upon prince and minister to give his opinion upon the crisis, and to each she lent her courteous attention. Last of all she called upon the aged general Li Hung-chang, who came forward with unsteady steps and with difficulty knelt to make obeisance. She watched him as two eunuchs lowered him to his knees but she did not give permission for him to sit instead of kneel. Today she demanded every sign of submission and what she did not grant none could take.
“And what have you to say, most honored protector of our Throne?” she inquired in a pleasant voice.
To which Li Hung-chang replied, not lifting his forehead from the floor: “Most High, it is a matter I have considered for many months. We are surrounded with angry enemies, men alien to us and to our ways. Yet we must avoid war at all costs, for to engage in war against so many would be indeed to mount the tiger. It is prudent therefore to entice one enemy to become our ally. Let this one be the northern enemy, Russia. Among them all, Russia is most Asian, like ourselves, a people alien it is true, but Asian.”
“And what is the price to make an enemy our friend?” she asked. The old man trembled under the sweet coldness of her voice. She saw his shoulders shiver and his clasped hands quivered. He could not speak.
“No,” she said strongly. “I will answer my own question. The price is too great. What boots it if we conquer our other enemies only to become the vassal of the one? Does any nation give something, anything, for nothing? Alas, I have not found one man who will do such a thing. We will repel all enemies. Indeed, I will not rest until every white man and woman and child is driven from our shores. I will not yield. We take back our own.”
She rose from the throne as she spoke, and the ministers and princes stared to see her seem to grow tall while they watched. Her eyes blazed black light, her cheeks flushed, she spread out her hands, her ten fingers outstretched, and the jeweled shields upon her nails were golden talons. Power streamed from her, the very air grew sharp and needled through with angry heat. They fell upon their faces, one and all, and she looked down upon the bent bodies of these men and felt ecstasy flow through her veins a creeping fire.
And at this same instant she thought of Jung Lu and how he had not come to support her. She let her eyes roam over the bent figures of the men, their brilliant robes outspread upon the tiled floor in every hue and color and her eyes chose the form of the Grand Councilor Kang Yi, a man no longer young, but who through all his years had spent his strength in preserving what was ancient, ever against the new and for the old.
“You, my Grand Councilor Kang Yi,” she said in loud clear tones, “you shall remain for private audience. You, my lords and princes, are dismissed.”
So saying she stepped down from her throne and Li Lien-ying came forward and with her hand upon his forearm, she walked in stateliness between the bowed assembly and to her sedan. Her will was set, her mind was firm. She would not yield again to white men.
An hour later the Grand Councilor Kang Yi stood to hear her commands. It was midafternoon, the Hour of the Monkey, the place her private audience hall. The Chief Eunuch was near, seeming not to hear but hearing all, the bribe which Kang Yi had given him warm in the inner pocket of his robe. While the Empress spoke she gazed across the wide hall toward the doors opened on her gardens. The night wind had died and the air was freshly cleansed by the sandstorm.
“I vacillate no more,” the Empress said. “I am relentless toward all enemies. I shall reclaim our land. I shall take it back, foot by foot, counting no cost.”
“Majesty,” Kang Yi said, “for the first time I feel hope.” He was a tall man and in his prime, a scholar and a Confucian.
“What is your advice?” the Empress asked.
“Majesty,” he said, “Prince Tuan and I have often spoken of what we would advise if our advice were asked. We agree, he and I, that we should use the anger of the Chinese against the Western men. The Chinese are sick with fury for their stolen land, for all the wars against them, for gold they pay in indemnity because of priests the mobs have killed. They have made secret bands among themselves, sworn to destroy these enemies. Here is my counsel, humbly offered, Majesty. I do not claim wisdom. But since these roving bands exist, why not use them, Majesty? Let your approval be made known to them secretly. When all these bands are added to the five-pronged armies that Jung Lu has built, who can resist us? And will not the Chinese be most fervent in loyalty to you, Holy Mother, when they know you are with them against the aliens?”
The Empress heard and pondered, and the plan seemed good. She asked a few questions more, she praised him once or twice, and then she dismissed him. So high was her mood at this fresh hope that when Li Lien-ying came forward to put in his advice, she did not reprove him.
“What better plan?” he asked. “This Grand Councilor is a sage and prudent man.”
“He is, indeed,” she agreed.
She caught him looking at her sidewise, his eyes narrowed and sly in his harsh face. “Well?” she asked. They knew each other deeply, these two.
“I warn you, Majesty,” he said. “I think Jung Lu will not approve the plan.” He put out his tongue and touched his upper lip and drew down the corners of his mouth.
She smiled at the wryness of his face. “Even I will not heed him, then,” she said.
Nevertheless, in a few days she sent for Jung Lu, ready to reprove him for what her spies said he had done.
“How now?” she asked when he appeared before her. The hour was late and she had not let him take his evening meal. No, she said, he could eat later.
“What have I done, Majesty?” he inquired.
For the first time she thought he looked old and tired. “I hear you have allowed the foreign ministers to augment their guard.”
“I was compelled,” he said. “It seems that they also have their spies who brought them word somehow that you, Majesty, have listened to Kang Yi, and do intend to approve the bands of secret Chinese rebels whose purpose, as all know, is to destroy the foreigners among us down to the last child. Majesty, I said I would not believe that you could approve such folly. Indeed, do you think that even you can fight against the whole world? We must negotiate, propitiate, until we make our forces strong enough for victory.”
“I hear the people muttered curses when the foreign troops came in,” she said. “And Kang Yi has been to Chu-chou and he says the province now is organized to fight the enemy. He says that at Chu-chou he found the magistrate had arrested some of the secret rebels, who belong to the order of the Boxers, but he, Kang Yi, commanded them to be released and brought before me to show their powers. He says that they have magic which prevents their death. Even when guns are fired against their bodies they are not wounded.”
Jung Lu cried out in anguish. “Oh, Majesty, can you believe such nonsense?”
“It is you who are foolish,” she retorted. “Do you forget that at the end of the Han dynasty, more than a thousand years ago, Chang Chou led the Yellow Turban Rebels against the Throne and took many cities, though he had less than half a million men? They, too, knew magic against wound and death. And Kang Yi says that he has friends who many years ago saw this same magic in Shensi province. I tell you, there are spirits who aid the righteous.”
Jung Lu was beside himself by now. He wrenched his hat from his head and threw it on the floor before her and he seized his hair in both hands and tore out two handfuls.
“I w
ill not forget your place,” he said between set teeth. “But still you are my kinswoman, that one to whom I long ago gave up my life. Surely, I deserve the right to say you are a fool. For all your beauty and your power, you, even you, can be a fool. I warn you, if you listen to that stone-head, Kang Yi, who has no knowledge of the present but lives in centuries now dead, and if you listen to your Chief Eunuch and his kind or even to Prince Tuan, who dreams of folly, too, then I say you do destroy yourself and with you the whole dynasty. Oh hear me—hear me—
He put his hands together to beseech her and gazed into the face he still adored. Their eyes met and clung, he saw her will waver and dared not speak lest he undo what he had done.
She spoke in a small voice. “I asked Prince Ch’ing what he thought and he said doubtless the Boxer bands might be useful.”
“It is only I who dare to speak the truth to you,” he said. He took one step forward and thrust his hands into his girdle lest he put them out toward her. “In your presence Prince Ch’ing dares not say what he says to me in private—that these Boxers are imposters and pretenders, ignorant robbers who seek to rise to power through your approval. But what man worships you as I do?” His voice sank and his words came out a dry reluctant whisper.
She dropped her head. The old power still held. All through their lives his love had stayed her.
“Promise me at least that you will do nothing without telling me,” he said. “It is a small promise.” He urged her when still she did not speak. “A reward—the only one I ask.”
He waited for a time and all the while he waited he kept his eyes fixed upon her drooping head. And she kept her head down, and saw his two feet planted on the floor before her, strong feet in velvet boots half hidden by his long blue satin robe. Faithful in her service, those two feet—stubborn, brave and strong.
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