China

by Edward Rutherfurd

  People said her face was plain. What did they know? Her face was oval. Her features were certainly too heavy to be called pretty, but they were perfectly regular. She wore long heavy earrings. Her chin was firm. She knew her own mind. Did something in her mouth suggest she might like to be kind? Perhaps. But her dark amber eyes belonged to an older woman—cautious, watchful. This woman is brave, I thought, but careful.

  Her eyes took me in. “Have you experience with manicure?”

  “Your slave is not a manicurist, Highness,” I replied. “But I am skilled in all kinds of lacquer work. I am sure I could apply manicurist’s lacquer well enough to hold your broken nail.”

  She gazed at me. “The stupid girl’s things are on that table over there.”

  The cutters, files, brushes, and little lacquer pots were jumbled in a shallow box as if they had been thrown there.

  “Perhaps if we had some glue…” Shaking Leaf began.

  “No glue,” she said sharply. “I hate glue.” She was quite right, by the way. Glue’s more trouble than it’s worth. Sometimes it’s poisonous. Worse, it’s often stronger than the nail, which means the nail may tear again.

  So I gathered what I needed and knelt in front of her. Her hand was resting on the arm of the chair, with the fingers pointing downwards, level with my eyes. The fingernails were certainly long. The nail of the third finger was the longest, a good three inches, and curved. It was wonderfully decorated. I don’t just mean the red lacquer—which, I soon learned, only the royal women are allowed to wear—but the droplets of gold and the tiny diamonds embedded in the lacquer. I’d never seen such a fingernail before.

  It was the index finger that had the broken nail. A nasty tear. No wonder she was angry. “Do we have the broken end?” I asked.

  One of the ladies brought it to me on a little cushion. I put it back in place on the finger to see if it fitted cleanly. It did. The tear might help me, because there was some overhang between the broken-off bit and the rest. If I put a little lacquer between the top of the existing nail and the underside of the torn section, that would act as a glue to hold the two together. Then it would be a question of lacquering both the underside and the top of the nail.

  “Your slave will need you to rest your hand on the arm of the chair and not move it, Highness,” I said to her. “I shall apply some coats of lacquer, but it will take time to dry.”

  She said nothing, but put her hand where I wanted.

  I must say, she was very good. I worked for an hour and she never moved at all. Not a flicker. She had wonderful control.

  “Your slave thinks that is enough for today,” I said finally. While I was working, I’d noticed that as well as the diamond inlay on her index fingernail, she had a beautifully worked silver nail guard on her fourth. “Is there perhaps a nail guard Your Highness could wear to protect the broken nail for the night?” I asked. “The lacquer will continue to strengthen during that time.” She had a painted wooden one that I was able to fit nicely over my work.

  I’d just put that in place when I heard Shaking Leaf’s soft voice. “We shall find a proper manicurist by the morning, Noble Consort,” he murmured, “and bring her to you.”

  Well, that didn’t suit me at all. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He’d brought me there because she was throwing a tantrum and he was in a panic. But he also knew how furious head eunuch Liu would be when he discovered I’d got in there.

  “May your slave speak?” I asked. She nodded. “What your slave has done will last until tomorrow,” I said, “but if I may bring my own lacquer and brushes in the morning, I can make something so strong it will last until the nail has grown at least another inch.”

  Shaking Leaf started to object, but she cut him short. “Let him finish,” she said. “There’s no point in doing it otherwise.”

  * * *

  —

  The next morning she had changed her gown. A pale cream color, with a softer pattern. She wore the same head comb as the day before, but this time she had dressed it with artificial flowers, peony and plum blossom, made of pearl and coral. I told myself she’d done it for me. Not that she had, of course.

  I set to work straightaway. It felt so good, having my own brushes in my hand.

  She didn’t say a word at first, but I could sense that she was watching me closely. “You really know what you’re doing,” she said finally.

  “Yes, Highness,” I replied. “I do.”

  Shaking Leaf had already told me that, as she wasn’t actually a princess, I shouldn’t address her as “Highness.” “You should say ‘Noble Consort’ instead,” he’d instructed. But I think she liked “Highness,” so I pretended I didn’t know any better and went on doing it.

  She didn’t say anything more for a bit, but then she turned to Shaking Leaf, who was watching morosely. “What happened to that stupid girl I told you to beat?” she demanded.

  “I’m afraid she died, Noble Consort,” he said softly.

  “Really? They must have beaten her too hard.” She didn’t sound upset. But people with privilege and power are often cold. They have to be. A minute later, she tapped me on the head with one of the fingernails of her free hand. I looked up. “You like the finer things of life, don’t you?”

  She’d seen that in me! I don’t know how, but she’d seen it. “Your slave does,” I murmured, and bowed my head.

  And then she smiled at me. “Tell me about yourself,” she ordered. I don’t suppose she was truly interested, but it was a way of passing the time. “What age were you when you had the operation?”

  “Just recently, Highness, a few months ago,” I told her.

  “Recently? What do you mean?” Now she was really curious. “Explain.”

  So while I worked on her nail, I told her my life story—well, some of it, anyway. And how I had the operation to become a palace person on account of my little boy.

  “So you have a wife and family?”

  “Your slave does.”

  “How extraordinary.” Then she frowned. “When they did the operation, did they take everything off?” She was looking at me suspiciously now.

  “Yes, Highness,” I assured her. “Everything. I promise.”

  “It was all done according to the regulations,” Shaking Leaf said nervously.

  “Show me,” she said.

  It was one of the worst moments in my life. I know I blushed. It was so humiliating. “Oh, please, Highness,” I begged her.

  She pointed to a screen in a corner of the room. “Go behind that,” she told me. Then she turned to one of her ladies. “Look, and tell me.”

  So I did as I was told and stripped down. It was bad enough having one of the court ladies look at me, but at least it wasn’t all of them, and particularly the Noble Consort Yi.

  “All gone,” the lady called out in a singsong voice.

  “You can’t be too careful,” the Noble Consort remarked to me when I was back at my work. “You certainly made a sacrifice.”

  “It is worth it to serve you, Highness,” I said, and I went on with my work. I could see Shaking Leaf fidgeting, but I took my time. “Your slave has done all he can for now,” I said finally. I saw Shaking Leaf look relieved.

  So this’ll be it, I thought. Back to the chamber pots for me tomorrow.

  “You seem to have done a good job,” the Noble Consort said. I saw her nod to the lady who’d inspected me. I understood what was coming: a silver coin or two, thank you very much. Goodbye. Unless I could pull off one more trick.

  “May your slave speak?” I said. Shaking Leaf gave me a warning look. I ignored it. The Noble Consort nodded, so I pressed on. “Often the palace people are given training in all manner of skills and arts. Your slave believes, with the skills he already has, that he could quickly learn the arts of manicure and serve you in that capacity.”


  She gazed at me. “Cheeky monkey,” she remarked. She seemed to be thinking.

  “Such training is provided only to trainees who show great aptitude, after several years,” Shaking Leaf reminded her. “And then more years of proof are necessary before a palace person may be considered to serve a member of the royal family.” He spoke softly, but I could see he was terrified.

  “Well,” she replied tartly, “so far you’ve provided me with a servant who broke my nail, and then you beat her to death, which nobody told you to do.”

  “It was not I who beat her, Noble Consort,” he said nervously.

  “You’re in charge while Mr. Liu is away,” she retorted. “So it’s your responsibility.”

  I felt quite sorry for him, actually, because I knew what a pickle he was in. And what he said about the employment rules was true, of course.

  “Your slave meant no disrespect.” I made a low bow first to her, then to Shaking Leaf. “Your slave was so eager to serve that he forgot himself. It is true that it is far too early for me to think of such an honor. I only beg that in the years ahead Your Highness may remember me, if I am worthy.”

  She might remember me, I thought. You never know. She might.

  “There are also certain objections to this person,” said Shaking Leaf.

  Looking back, I’ve often thought that if he hadn’t said that, she probably would have given me up—for it wasn’t of any consequence to her, really. I’d have been dismissed.

  But anxiousness had made him overplay his hand, and she’d picked up on it at once. Her instincts were excellent. “Objections to him? Then why did you bring him here?” she demanded.

  “It was an emergency, Noble Consort. I wished to serve you quickly.”

  “What objections?”

  “It would be best to ask Mr. Liu when he returns,” he murmured.

  “Did his mentor complain of him?”

  Shaking Leaf was in a bind now. He didn’t like to lie. I could see that. Dangerous to lie, too. She’d be furious if she found out—and he was already in trouble.

  “No, Noble Consort.”

  “How was his mentor’s report? Good, poor, or indifferent?” She wouldn’t let go.

  I looked at him—not as if I’d contradict him, and not an imploring look, either. I just looked at him.

  “Good,” he said reluctantly.

  “How good?” She was like a cat with a rat.

  “Very good, Noble Consort.”

  “So I should speak to Mr. Liu?”

  “It would be best,” he said miserably.

  “Then I shall. It’s settled.” He looked relieved. “In the meantime, however,” she continued, “he is to be trained in manicure at once. And he will attend to my nails each day so that we can see if he is learning anything.”

  “Noble Consort…” Shaking Leaf tried to interrupt her. He was in agony.

  “Just until Mr. Liu returns,” she said with a smile, and dismissed us both.

  * * *

  —

  He was away for fifteen days. Fifteen blessed days. Every morning I went to the palace to attend to her nails, but the rest of the day I spent with a manicurist in Beijing. “Find me the best manicurist in the city,” I’d told my father, and sure enough he had: an old man who’d been amazed how fast I learned. For if you have talent and your entire existence is focused on a single object, you can learn ten times as fast as a normal student will.

  I paid for that apprenticeship myself, using some of the money I’d hidden. I could have asked the palace to pay, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to surprise them. And I did. By the end of the fifteen days, the Noble Consort said I was the best manicurist she’d ever had.

  “It’s because your slave was a lacquer craftsman first,” I told her.

  “I’m giving you a new name: Lacquer Nail,” she said. “Do you like it?”

  Not that it would have made a difference if I didn’t.

  “Your slave is honored,” I said, and bowed low. I did like it, in fact.

  So that is how I got the name of Lacquer Nail.

  * * *

  —

  She usually talked to me as I worked. And she was always curious. Naturally, one of her first questions was about the head eunuch. What had he got against me? Why didn’t Shaking Leaf want to tell her? I’d known she’d ask, and I’d prepared my answer.

  “Highness,” I said, “you know your slave wants to obey you. How could it be otherwise? But if Mr. Liu thinks that I have told you, it will make him so angry that I don’t know what will happen to me.” I paused and looked into her eyes. “Perhaps I would disappear.” I said it quietly. I saw her take it in. She didn’t contradict me. “However,” I continued, “all the eunuchs know the story. Any of your ladies could find it out from one of them.”

  She said nothing, but the next day she gave me a funny look. “I heard about Mr. Chen,” she said.

  “Not from me, Highness,” I said anxiously.

  “No. Not from you.”

  She didn’t mention it again. But then she got curious about another thing, which was much more personal and quite embarrassing. “So what’s it like for a eunuch to be married?” she asked me one day.

  I realized what she was after, but I pretended I didn’t. “As your slave expects you know, Highness, some of the palace people—if they’ve been fortunate in their careers and are able to buy back their missing parts—adopt sons to inherit from them, whose duty is to make sure they are buried in the proper manner with their ancestors. And your slave has heard that some of these older palace people also take wives.”

  “I know,” she said. “But can their wives be happy?”

  “Your slave supposes each case is different,” I replied. “The wives are well provided for.”

  She gave me a look, and I was afraid she was going to interrogate me further. But I suppose she felt it was beneath her dignity.

  Two days later, as I was leaving through the courtyard, one of her ladies who was alone out there asked me to push her in the swing. After we’d done that for a little while and she’d engaged me in conversation in a friendly manner, she casually remarked: “It’s nice to talk to someone. We’re quite lonely here, you know.” I bowed politely but said nothing. “Some concubines have been here for years,” she went on, “and scarcely seen the emperor, let alone spent time with him.”

  “I suppose it’s no worse than being an unmarried spinster,” I suggested. “And still a great honor for the lady and her family.”

  “They’d rather be married,” she said. “At least they get to make love and have children.” Again, I remained silent. She glanced around, to make sure there was no one else in the courtyard. “I want to ask you something,” she whispered.

  I already guessed what was coming and who was behind this little game. But there was nothing to do except play along.

  “I don’t mean to pry,” she said, “but is it like that for your wife?”

  “My wife?” I pretended to misunderstand. “My wife has children.”

  “I know. But now that you’ve been castrated…when you’re with her at night, I mean…what do you do?”

  I’d known it was coming. I knew who wanted to know. And I had prepared for it. But I still had to be awfully careful. It was so dangerous.

  If I said a word about my intimate life with my wife, it would be all around the palace in no time. And people would think I might want or might be persuaded to do the same for the emperor’s women. It would be just the excuse Mr. Liu was looking for to forbid any more people like me from being admitted again. He’d have me thrown out at once. If anyone suspected I’d even tried anything, I’d probably be executed.

  “My wife is a good woman,” I said. “She looks after my parents and the children. She asks for nothing. Naturally, now I can only be her friend. She is
like a sister. But there are many married couples who live in this way. She is dutiful and quite content.”

  “Oh,” she said. She didn’t bother me again.

  And so the fifteen days passed. I may not have satisfied the Noble Consort’s curiosity, but she continued to be happy with my manicures, which was all that mattered. I met her little boy a few times. He was four, I think. He seemed to be a nice child.

  The emperor was in the palace, and the Noble Consort Yi was often with him, but I did not see him myself at that time.

  Then head eunuch Liu returned.

  * * *

  —

  He gazed at me. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said he looked benevolent. “Well, I didn’t foresee this,” he remarked.

  “Nor did I, Mr. Liu,” I said.

  “You needn’t bother to explain,” he said, raising his hand. “I know everything that happened.” He shook his head. “I thought I couldn’t be surprised.” He sighed. “But one can always learn something new.” That was typical of him, I must say. People who get to the top always want to keep learning. The question was, what would he do?

  “I hear the Noble Consort Yi has given you a new name,” he went on drily. “Lacquer Nail.”

  “It is true, Mr. Liu,” I said, and bowed my head.

  “Well, if she wants you to do her nails, I suppose you’d better.” The look he gave me said it all. He’d bide his time, but he’d still destroy me. “Rejoice while you can,” he said bleakly.

  “Your unworthy servant can only accept his fate,” I mumbled.

  “You haven’t accepted your fate at all,” he snapped. “You volunteered for the job, and then you asked her for a position.”

  “Your foolish servant was so surprised, he acted impulsively,” I said. “You were not there to guide me.” That got a snort. “May your servant speak?” I ventured.