—Shall we take a commemorative photo?
Victor opened the leather case and took out the wooden box camera and affixed it atop the tripod that it came with. This was not the concealed vest camera he had used to take surreptitious photos in his first audience with the King. Victor slipped into the black cloth behind the camera.
—Everyone, please look in this direction.
Paul Choi and Guérin looked toward the camera. Jin felt a little awkward and decided to look at the phoenix tree on the other side of the courtyard and not at the tripod. There was a Jindo dog resting underneath it, exhausted by the heat. She heard a click coming from the camera.
Victor’s head popped out of the black cloth, and he spoke to Jin.
—Please come forward a bit.
When Jin went to the tree he had indicated and stood next to it, Victor disappeared again underneath the black cloth. Did he not even feel the heat? He pressed the shutter toward Jin countless times. Jin drinking coffee, Jin propping her head with her arms, Jin occasionally smiling at Guérin’s attempts at levity. Jin eventually looked in Victor’s direction as he took these photos at a distance.
—Did you say you wanted a Korean name?
Jin said this as Victor came to join them underneath the parasol. He beamed.
—How about Gillin? Gil for auspicious, lin for clearness. It sounds close to Collin.
Jin traced the characters on the table. Gillin. As Victor uncertainly pronounced the Korean name Jin had given him, a breeze, as if thinking of the beads of sweat on Victor’s forehead, caressed their heat away.
4
Live Here with Us
Your Excellency,
Since the signing of our treaty in 1886, Bishop Blanc diligently sought building lots for his priests’ housing, churches, a printing press, schools, and for the abandoned children, orphanages. We obtained agreement from all owners, paid for their housing, and received the deeds for their property. We’ve knocked down their useless thatched cottages and started building the foundations for what we need. But Korea recently began to claim that the hill the bishop wishes to build on is owned by their government. They heard the bishop’s contention but did not accept it. There is also the matter of a shrine being nearby. American missionaries have already settled in this land, but our situation remains uncertain. I explained to the official Cho Byeongsik that Article 4 of our treaty states, “They have the right to practice their religion” and that building a place to pray in the opened port and city were part of this deal. He insisted it did not apply within the capital’s fortress. We must continue our dialogue regarding these matters. Bishop Blanc wishes to begin construction as early as next spring, but it will require great patience in negotiations.
August 5, 1888
Victor Collin de Plancy
Postscript: I have succeeded in creating a rough map of Seoul. I send Your Excellency the first copy. You can see where the land for the mission and the shrine are. They are approximately one hundred meters apart.
Was it morning sunlight? Bright light filled the room. Outside the window, in the orchard across the water, were pear trees weighed down with yellow fruit. Despite this hanging harvest of pears, there seemed to be unseasonal petals flying in the sunlight like snow.
Where was she?
—Is it good?
The child nodded as she accepted another spoonful of white pear flesh. The woman with the inner glow looked sadly upon the child. It was the Queen. The Queen cut deeper into the fruit, revealing the moist white insides of the pear. The person who sat before her was the Queen from the inner chambers of court, but they were sitting in the woman Suh’s house in Banchon instead of the palace. It was the room where she had learned French from Blanc with the flute player Yeon by her side. The woman Suh’s needlework was neatly folded in a corner of the room. The Queen was also not wearing her green tunic but the woman Suh’s clothes. The Queen scraped the inside of the pear again, filling up its bowl, and gave the child another spoonful. The child almost closed her eyes as she kept accepting the Queen’s white pear flesh in her mouth.
The sweetness that spread in her mouth lasted only a moment.
—Here I live! Here I stand, alive!
Now the Queen’s hair was unornamented save for a long silver hairpin holding her bun in place, her dress that of an ordinary housewife. The words she shouted made Jin’s blood run cold. It broke her heart to see the Queen wearing a simple skirt and jacket and her hair tied back into a bun. The Queen’s eyes, which were once so luminous that they made others take a step back, were bloodshot, and her face had gone past pale and was now white as a sheet.
—To hold a funeral for me while I live . . . how can this be! When I stand here, alive!
The shrieking from the deathly white Queen jolted Jin from her sleep.
It was too real to have been a dream.
Jin tried to keep her eyes open, but they slid shut on their own accord. She lifted her hand and placed it on her forehead. She touched cold sweat. Her hand was already moist with sweat. In the Year of the Black Horse, the Queen had escaped from the palace, cast off her regalia, and disguised herself as a housewife. Jin had just dreamed of the Queen as she was back then, climbing up the mountain trail where the palanquin could not take her. That was not so very long ago when the Queen lived in hiding without contact with the King. One day, the Queen heard the news that the King’s father, the Regent, ordered the Queen be considered dead and her funeral to be held, sending the Queen into a fury.
Jin tried to open her eyes again, and through her narrow vision, she could just about see Yeon in his linen trousers and jacket. Kang Yeon. Despite her confusion, her eyes trembled with gladness at the sight of him. Farther off sat the woman Suh, and next to her, Victor. “Ah,” said Jin as her eyes flew open. Her swollen eyelids shuttered upward.
—Can you hear me?
—Ça va bien?
Suh and Victor spoke simultaneously to Jin. Yeon sat close by, his expression overflowing with sorrow. Suh placed a hand on Jin’s forehead and looked at her with eyes full of concern. Yeon had grasped Jin’s hand without realizing it, and he carefully placed it down and let go. As Jin tried to sit up, she felt a pain in her left breast.
—Keep still. The wound will worsen if you move.
Yeon seemed to be in pain as he watched Jin lie down once more. Jin’s eyes grew wide seeing the bundle of linen wrapped around Yeon’s left arm and the blood soaking through it.
—What happened?
The moment she asked that, a scene unfurled in her mind, rendering her silent.
Sometimes, an unexpected incident of a single moment can tow an entire life along in its wake.
It was past noon when Jin and Victor left the legation, with Guérin and Paul Choi seeing them to the gate. Victor had offered to hire a palanquin, but it was Jin who insisted they walk. She wanted to walk. Ever since she was kept away from the Queen’s presence, Jin got up at dawn every morning—carefully, so Soa wouldn’t wake—and walked to the Queen’s Chambers and back. When she returned, there was dew adorning the hem of her skirt. This walk, which she did without telling anyone, assuaged her heavy heart a little. On the way from the palace to the legation, Jin had looked down from the palanquin at the streets that the monsoon had swept afresh and was struck by the desire to walk on even this muddy ground. How long was it since she had been outside the palace? She wanted to spread her shoulders and stride, something she would never be allowed to do within the palace walls.
Victor had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves for the walk to Gondangol. He held a silk-wrapped bundle of French books under one of his white arms that were revealed to the strong sun. But Jin soon regretted choosing to walk instead of taking the palanquin. They were stared at for being a foreigner and a court lady, not to mention for her fine palace attire. The unusual sight of the two together had disrupted an otherwise tedious summer afternoon. An official in red robes and a young noble wearing a cholip straw hat glared at
them as they passed, as did a clogs seller and a straw-sandal seller, their wares stacked high on their carrying racks like in a circus trick. Everyone stared at them, the woman in front of a cotton gin with her face peeking out of the long jacket thrown over her head, even the little children who had taken their tunics off and were playing in their trousers. Victor noted that the strong facial features of the Korean men with their prominent foreheads and high cheekbones resembled those who lived in France’s Bretagne and thought no more of it, but Jin lowered her head, her face turning red, not because of the heat but rather from embarrassment.
It was easy to find the orphanage Blanc had built. It had started as a single Korean-style tiled-roof house, but they bought two more houses to accommodate more children. The boys lived in the lower house, which was thus called Namdang, and the girls lived in the upper house, which was therefore called Yeodang. It was immediately clear upon arriving in the neighborhood that the three tiled-roof houses were the place they were looking for.
Jin quickened her pace once the orphanage was in sight. Just then, two men with their hair tied in the topknot of adulthood walked out of an alley across from the Namdang. Their faces were red as if they’d spent the day drinking, and one had on his back an empty carrying rack. Their eyes passed over Jin. They were about to be on their way when they caught sight of Victor behind her. They turned rough and began shouting.
—A white bastard! He’s here to steal the children!
Jin was glad Victor didn’t understand Korean, and she was just about to turn away when the man with the carrying rack began swinging a stick at her. It all happened in the blink of an eye. Was it a hoe? A knife? Something flashed in the hand of the man standing behind him. The last thing Jin remembered before blacking out was the door to Namdang opening and Yeon running out of it as the man with the weapon rushed toward her.
The physician, who had left the room after administering emergency aid, came back inside where Jin lay. He regularly visited the orphanage to help with the care of the children.
—Your wounds are deeper than they seem, my lady.
The woman Suh’s expression hardened, and Yeon’s face fell at his words. Victor, not understanding Korean, looked Jin in the eye.
—He says I will be fine.
Victor glanced at the concerned faces of the woman Suh and Yeon. He guessed that she had not told him the truth.
Jin’s eyes kept trying to close so she used all of her strength to keep them open for as long a moment as possible. The blot of blood kept widening on the linen bandage wrapped around Yeon’s arm. Jin lifted her hand and caught it.
—Does it hurt a lot?
All I do is hurt you. Jin’s eyes grew sad as she gazed at his wounded arm.
—It’s my fault . . .
Yeon shook his head.
Victor, who couldn’t have known Yeon was mute, looked nonplussed at how Yeon was answering Jin not with words but with his eyes and head-shaking. Victor thought Yeon’s dark eyes underneath his thick eyebrows resembled Jin’s in some way. Victor also didn’t know that Yeon already knew of Victor. Or that Yeon was keeping Victor at a distance and trying to avoid eye contact. Yeon remembered Victor as the only man who had not applauded Jin’s Dance of the Spring Oriole at the Pavilion of Festivities banquet, humiliating her before the Queen. Yeon wasn’t surprised Jin had appeared with Victor. He hadn’t forgotten that on the evening of the banquet, the Queen had halted Jin as she was exiting the stage and said, “Perhaps he does not like your dancing. And what shall you do about it?” Even if Victor had seen Yeon that evening among the musicians playing the daegeum, Victor would not recognize Yeon’s face. The Yeon wearing the Jangakwon robes at the banquet and the Yeon in his ordinary clothes and his hair in a braid down his back looked like completely different people.
—Why did you attack when you should’ve avoided it?
The woman Suh worriedly examined Yeon’s arm after telling Jin what the physician said, that his treatment would soon stop the bleeding. Suh had been so shocked by Jin’s chest wound that she hadn’t had the wherewithal to look after Yeon. Now that his arm was wounded, he wouldn’t be able to play the daegeum for the time being. Jin kept looking at Yeon’s hurt arm. In both the Year of the Black Horse and the Year of the Blue Horse, Yeon had kept getting injured for Jin.
—Water . . .
Her mouth was parched, and her voice came out cracked. Before Suh could get up, Yeon sprang to get her some water. Bishop Blanc appeared through the open door. Jin smiled at the sight of him. Blanc had come running after hearing Jin was hurt, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Victor.
—Your Excellency!
Blanc’s expression turned from confusion to dismay. He remembered Victor saying he was in love with a woman of the palace and asking him to teach him Korean so that he could greet her in Korean when they met. Was Jin the court lady the legate was in love with? Blanc’s face grew dark.
Yeon came back into the room with a white celadon bowl full of water. Victor saw that he did not greet Blanc with words either, only giving him a look with his dark eyes. Jin managed to drink a few gulps of water with Suh’s support. Blanc watched worriedly as Jin settled back down.
—How could this have happened?
—I believe there are still rumors that foreigners are kidnapping Korean children . . .
Suh was about to add that Jin appearing with a foreign man by her side seemed to have agitated the drunks as well, but she swallowed these words. It was strange enough for her that Jin, a court lady who should be in the palace, would show up at Gondangol, with the French legate no less.
—My heart is still racing.
Suh had managed to maintain a calm demeanor until that moment, but her eyes were now filling with tears. Jin reached out and enclosed Suh’s hand in hers. Suh had more white in her hair and wrinkles on her face than she had the last time they had seen each other.
Jin tried to smile, but the pain in her chest would not allow her to smile properly. Was desire as heedless as this, Victor thought, as he fought down the urge to kiss the wounded woman’s lips. He had felt it when he saw Yeon easily take Jin’s hand and when his eyes had watched Jin hold Yeon’s hurt arm with a sorrowful expression on her face. The scent of her whenever he had been close enough to her as they walked from the legation to Gondangol. These rousing moments that had arisen despite the heat were now converted by his jealousy of Yeon into a compulsion to kiss her.
—What happened to the perpetrators?
—They were taken to the constabulary.
Victor watched them discuss amongst themselves as if they were four members of the same family.
—We must send word to the palace. You can’t go back in this state.
—But I must return.
—Not like this!
Jin thought of the Queen, who was expecting a detailed recounting of her visit to the French legation.
—We won’t send anyone. I shall go myself.
The woman Suh meant that she would go to the palace and talk to Lady Suh and request that Jin be allowed to stay outside until her wounds healed.
—But I must return.
Jin’s stubbornness made Suh glance at Blanc. Blanc looked at Victor. Victor said he would summon a palanquin and move her to the French legation. He assumed that because the palace thought she was at the legation, this would be for the best. Jin, who would not bend in her wish to return to court, tried hard to keep her eyes from closing. When Blanc told Suh of Victor’s suggestion, Suh said the shaking of the palanquin could worsen Jin’s wounds. Victor reiterated that she should be moved to the legation before the diplomatic officials at the palace got wind of what had happened. He added that the legation had their own doctor who would aid in Jin’s swift recovery.
Yeon, who had been still, began writing on the floor in front of Suh.
Tell Lady Suh what happened. She will tell you what to do.
—Yes, I shall.
Victor watched Yeon as he traced the
letters on the floor. He couldn’t read Korean, but he finally realized that Yeon was mute. The possibility had not crossed his mind.
—Please send word now.
At Blanc’s plea, Suh stood and opened the closet. She took out the clothes she wore to the palace for her rare visits to Lady Suh and left the room to change. As if she had come to the end of her endurance, Jin’s fluttering eyes finally slid shut before the physician spoke.
—We must leave her to rest.
Blanc and Victor stood up. Only Yeon could not bear to. He kept staring down at Jin’s closed eyes.
—They’re like brother and sister after all . . .
At Blanc’s mumbling Victor thought, So they are not brother and sister. He thought the two might be siblings seeing the familiar way they acted toward one another and how they somewhat resembled each other. As the three left the room, the few children gathered there, curious about what was going on, stared in unison at Blanc. A child reading a book in the shade of a tree also came running up, book in hand. Blanc approached the children and patted each one on the head.
—There was a disturbance, but all is well. Do not worry.
As Yeon emerged from the room, some of the children moved toward him as if carried by wind. Blanc couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Yeon surrounded by children. He was fond of saying that those who do not have hearts like children shall never enter Heaven. The remaining children left him to crowd around Blanc as well. A child shouted at the sight of Yeon’s blood-soaked bandage on his arm. Yeon was silent, but the children chattered in a near collective roar. Not even the stringent cries of the cicada could drown out their noise.
The Court Dancer Page 13