Empress Orchid - Anchee Min [76]
Emperor Hsien Feng nodded. “According to my father, the burning pit was as large as a lake. What a hero Lin was!”
Suddenly short of breath, His Majesty hammered on his chest and coughed and fell onto his pillow. His eyes closed. When he opened them again, he asked, “Has something happened to the rooster? Shim told me that yesterday the guards had seen weasels.”
I called in An-te-hai and was shocked to learn that the rooster had vanished.
“A weasel got it, my lady. I saw it myself this morning. A fat weasel the size of a baby pig.”
I told His Majesty about the rooster, and his expression grew dark. “Heaven’s signs are all here. The touch of a finger will put the dynasty out of existence.” He bit his lower lip so hard that it began to bleed. There was a hissing sound in his lungs.
“Come, Orchid,” he said. “I want to tell you something.”
I sat down by him quietly.
“You must remember the things I have told you,” he said. “If we should have a son, I expect you to pass on my words to him.”
“Yes, I will.” I held His Majesty’s feet and kissed them. “If we should have a son.”
“Tell him this.” He struggled to push the sentences out of his chest. “After Commissioner Lin’s action, the barbarians declared war against China. They crossed the oceans with sixteen armed ships along with four thousand soldiers.”
I didn’t want him to go on, so I told him that I was aware of all this. When he didn’t believe me, I decided to prove myself. “The foreign ships entered the mouth of the Pearl River and fired at our guards at Canton,” I said, remembering what my father had told me.
His Majesty’s eyes stared into space. His pupils were fixed on the sculpted dragon head that hung from the ceiling. “July twenty-seventh … was the saddest day in my father’s life,” he uttered. “It was the day … when the barbarians destroyed our navy and took Kowloon.” The Emperor drew in his shoulders and coughed uncontrollably.
“Please rest, Your Majesty.”
“Let me finish, Orchid. Our child must know this … In the next few months the barbarians took the ports of Amoy, Chou Shan, Ningpo, and Tinghai … Without stopping …”
I finished it for him. “Without stopping, the barbarians headed north toward Tientsin and took the city.”
Emperor Hsien Feng nodded. “You have managed the facts very well, Orchid, but I want to tell you a bit more about my father. He was in his sixties. He had been in good health, but the bad news destroyed him as no disease ever could. His tears had no chance to dry … My father didn’t close his eyes when he died. I am a son of little piety and I have brought him nothing but more shame …”
“It is late, Your Majesty.” I rose from the bed, trying to get him to stop.
“Orchid, I’m afraid we might not have another chance.” He grasped my hands and placed them on his chest. “You must believe me when I tell you that I am halfway in my grave. I see my father more than ever lately. His eyes are red and swollen, as big as peach pits. He comes to remind me of my obligations … Ever since I was a boy, my father took me with him when he conducted audiences. I remember messengers coming in with their robes wet with sweat. The horses they rode died of exhaustion. So much bad news. I remember the echoing sound the messengers made. They yelled the sentence as if it were the last one of their lives: ‘Pao Shan has fallen!’ ‘Shanghai has fallen!’ ‘Chiang Nin has fallen!’‘Hangchow has fallen!’
“As a child, I made up a poem with lines that rhymed with ‘fallen.’ My father could only smile bitterly. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he would withdraw in the middle of an audience. For days on end he would kneel before the portrait of my grandfather. He gathered us, all his children, wives and concubines, in the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing. He then admitted his shame.