The calligrapher's daughter_ a novel - Eugenia Kim [65]
The princess sat beside a wide window in the pavilion cantilevered over the largest pond in the gardens. Newly flowered azaleas and green-budding trees colored the surrounding terraces. In the pavilion’s corners lay swept piles of fallen petals, which an occasional breeze fluffed, then let settle, as if they breathed their last of spring. The maids served water, southern strawberries and apricots, while Madame Bongnyeong read from a Japanese novel. I half listened to the story of love, fate and social pressure—a typical romance. The walled-in pond was brimful with flat and standing lily and lotus leaves. Dark pond water glistened artfully between the floating leaves, and dragonflies skimmed the surface with singing wings. We folded paper flowers that would decorate the towers of ceremonial food for the princess’s fourteenth birthday the following month, then most of the group walked farther around the pond and north beyond a gateway to the big pavilion that was once a library and classroom for princes. I breathed a bit easier seeing the red-eyed guard follow them.
We sent the propellers whirring out the window and into the pond until my basket was empty. A eunuch wielded a long-handled net to fish the bamboo toys out, amusing us by reaching far and pretending to almost fall in. Princess Deokhye fell silent, and I sat back to unravel the confusing incident with the guard.
“Are you not well, Your Highness? Is it the heat?” said Madame Bongnyeong.
“No, Madame, I’m fine. Is it too hot for you? Are you comfortable?” Both the empress and Princess Deokhye were overly polite and solicitous to Madame Bongnyeong. Custom dictated that a wise woman would maintain harmony in the household by treating a lower concubine— typically a commoner who had once attracted the favors of the king— with respect, and to fully educate the woman’s offspring, even though the sons were barred from the civil service examinations and thus any future official rank. Daughters of concubines, therefore, fared better than sons, since being fully educated they could achieve higher status through marriage.
“No need to worry about me. I’ll manage.” Madame Bongnyeong’s responses typically called attention to herself in this way, an indication of her lack of refinement.
To distract the princess and to try to chase the sadness from her eyes, I invited her to lean out the side window with me to feel the sun on our cheeks and to let the petals fall on our hair. We watched the servant scooping propellers around the blossoms and sat companionably listening to his splashes and the buzzing insects. I murmured, “I have something to tell you later.” She would be amused by the propeller-and-guard story, and I could omit the handkerchief part.
She smiled and mouthed “wait,” then turned to Madame Bongnyeong. “Madame, I’d be delighted if you’d please read another chapter to us.”
She seemed happy to oblige. After a page, the princess gestured with mischievous eyes to turn toward the window, and she looked at me expectantly, our faces inches from each other.
With Madame Bongnyeong’s droning covering our whispers, I couldn’t help myself and told Princess Deokhye the whole scandalous story, which she loved. It helped me to see the incident for what it was—a little accident, meaningless—yet I couldn’t seem to erase the guard’s charming smile from behind my eyes.
Involved in the novel, Madame Bongnyeong turned another page. Princess Deokhye whispered, “You think he’s handsome!”
“No! I—”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve noticed him too, mostly because he’s young and not as stern as all the others. They only send us the educated boys. Of course, I wasn’t ever going to say so.