Like a deer standing by a cliff under the moonlight, Nuharoo stood by the basin. She slowly washed herself from head to toe. This had been for Hsien Feng’s eyes only, I thought.
In the middle of the night I awoke. Nuharoo and Tung Chih were sleeping soundly. My suspicions asserted themselves again. I recalled the head monk’s smile-it lacked sincerity. The other monks did not have the peaceful expressions I was used to seeing in Buddhists. The monks’ eyes darted away from the head monk and then quickly back as if awaiting a signal. During the meal I had asked the head monk about the local bandits. He said that he had never heard of such a thing. Was he telling the truth? Our scouts told us that bandits were known to be in this area. The head monk must have spent many years living here-how could he not know?
The head monk changed the subject when I asked to be shown around the temple. He took us to the main hall so we could light incense for the gods and then took us right back to this room to sleep. When I asked him about the history of the carvings on the walls, he changed the subject again. His tongue also lacked a preacher’s polish when telling Tung Chih the story of the one-thousand-hand Buddha. He didn’t seem familiar with the basic styles of calligraphy, which I found hard to believe, for monks made their living copying sutras. I had asked him how many monks he housed in the temple, and he had said eight. Where would we get help if bandits should attack?
The more I thought about this dubious man, the more restless I grew. “Li Lien-ying,” I whispered.
My eunuch didn’t answer. This was unusual. Li Lien-ying was a light sleeper. He could hear a leaf falling from a tree outside the window. What was wrong with him? I remembered that he had been invited by the head monk to have tea after dinner.
“Li-Li Lien-ying!” I sat up and saw him in the corner.
He was sleeping like a rock. Could there have been something in the tea the head monk had served?
I slipped into my robe and crossed the room. I shook the eunuch, but he responded with loud snoring. Maybe he was just too tired.
I decided to go out and check the courtyard. I was fearful, but it was scarier to be kept in doubt.
The moon was bright. The courtyard looked like it had been spread with a coat of salt. The scent of laurel was carried by the wind. Just as I thought how peaceful it was, I saw a shadow duck behind an arched door. Had my eyes been fooled by the moonlight? By my nerves?
I went back to the room and closed the door. I climbed into bed and peeked through a window. In front of me was a tree with a thick trunk. In the dark, the trunk kept changing its shape. One moment it looked like it grew a belly, the next an arm.
My eyes weren’t fooling me. There were people in the courtyard. They were hiding behind the trees.
I woke Nuharoo and explained what I saw.
“You see a soldier behind every blade of grass,” Nuharoo complained, putting on her clothes.
While I dressed Tung Chih, Nuharoo went to wake Li Lien-ying. “The slave must be drunk,” she said. “He won’t wake up.”
“Something’s wrong, Nuharoo.”
I slapped Li’s face and eventually he woke up. When he tried to walk, however, his legs wobbled. We were shocked.
“Get ready to run,” I said.
“Where can we go?” Nuharoo panicked.
We had no knowledge of the area. Even if we managed to get out of the temple, we could easily lose our way on the mountain. If we weren’t caught, we might starve to death. But what would happen if we remained here? By now I had no doubt that the head monk was Su Shun’s man. I should have insisted on keeping the bearers near.
I told Tung Chih to hold on to me when I opened the door.
The mountain was beginning to show its shape in the predawn light. The wind in the pines sounded like a rushing tide. The four of us walked down a hallway and passed through an arched gate. We followed a barely visible path. “This should lead us to the foot of the mountain,” I said, although I was not sure.
We didn’t get far before we heard the sounds of pursuit.
“Look, Yehonala, you’ve gotten us in trouble,” Nuharoo cried. “We could have called the monks for help if we had stayed in the temple.”
I pulled Nuharoo along with me as Li Lien-ying struggled to stay on his feet while carrying Tung Chih on his back. We walked as fast as we could. Suddenly the path was blocked by a group of masked men.
“Give them what they want,” I said to Nuharoo, assuming they were bandits.
The men made no sound but moved in closer around us.
“Here, take our jewelry,” I said. “Take it all and let us go!”
But the men wanted none of it. They jumped us and tied us with ropes. They stuck wads of cloth in our mouths and blindfolded us.
I was inside a jute sack, tied to a pole and carried on men’s shoulders. The blindfold fell off during my struggle, although my mouth was still stuffed with cloth. I could see light through the coarse weave of the sack. The men walked jerkily downward through the hills, and I guessed that they were not bandits, who would have had strong legs for rough terrain like this.
I had trusted that Prince Kung would protect us, but it seemed that Su Shun had outwitted him. There was no way I could escape if this was meant to be.
I believed that Nuharoo had a chance to live, but did Tung Chih? How amazingly easy it was for Su Shun to conduct a coup d’etat! No army, no weapons, not a drop of blood shed, just a few men dressed as bandits. Our government was a paper dragon made only for parades. The Era of Well-Omened Happiness was a joke. How would Emperor Hsien Feng like it now that Su Shun revealed what he was made of!
Branches beat against the sack. In darkness I searched for sounds of Tung Chih. There was nothing. Was I to be executed? I dared not allow myself to reflect on anything. Based on the angle of the pole, I could tell that the ground had become less steep.
Without warning I was dropped and knocked into something like a tree stump. My head hit a hard surface and the pain was excruciating. I heard men talking, then heavy steps approaching. I was dragged through dry leaves and tossed into what felt like a ditch.
The cloth in my mouth was soaked with saliva and it finally fell out. I dared not scream for help, fearing they would come and finish me sooner. I tried to prepare myself for the worst, but a crushing feeling came over me:
I heard footsteps over the dry leaves. Someone approached and stopped next to me. I tried to move my legs and get into a better position to defend myself from inside the sack, but they were tied too.
I could hear the sound of a man’s breathing.
“For the sake of Heaven, spare my son!” I cried out and then cringed. I imagined his knife slashing the sack and the cold metal ripping into my flesh.
It didn’t come. Instead I heard more footsteps and the clash of metal weapons. There was a muted cry, and then something, a body, fell on me.
For a moment there was quiet. Then in the distance came the sound of hooves and shouting men.
I couldn’t make up my mind whether to remain silent or call out for help. What if they were Su Shun’s men who had come to make sure I was dead? But what if they were Prince Kung’s men? How would I get anyone to pay attention to a jute sack lying in a ditch under a body?
“Tung Chih! Tung Chih!” I screamed.
A moment later a knife slashed open the sack and I was breathing in the sunlight.
Holding the knife was a soldier in the uniform of the Imperial Guards. He stood in front of me, stunned. “Your Majesty!” He threw himself on the ground.
Removing the ropes from my arms and legs, I told him, “Rise and tell me who sent you.”
The soldier rose and pointed behind him. A few yards away, a man on a horse turned his head.
“Yung Lu!”
He dismounted and dropped to his knees.
“I was almost a ghost!” I cried. “Or am I already one?”
“Speak, so I will know, Your Majesty,” said Yung Lu.
I broke down.
