The Calligrapher's Daughter Part 8

"In early October 1895, in the evening, a eunuch alerted the queen and her ladies that the new j.a.panese envoy, Miura Goro, had entered the palace with soldiers and was heading her way. To conceal herself, the queen dressed in simple clothes and sat among the ladies-in-waiting. The soldiers couldn't know which of the ladies was the queen, so they slashed to death the women closest to them. Some say she tried to save her ladies-in-waiting by identifying herself, but who knows? They killed all the witnesses, desecrated her and burned her body in the garden."

I couldn't swallow. Desecrated Desecrated rang in my ears. I felt terrible for wanting to hear the story as if it were gossip. I remembered Teacher Yee and what she'd suffered. My eyes filled with the horror of it, and the shame. "Yes, child," said Imo quietly. "When the news came out, everyone was shocked and there were many protests." I felt pangs of sadness for my teacher and the queen's tragic end, and was glad to have sewing to hold my attention until the intensity of the feelings eased. Imo asked me to get her a deck of cards from across the room, which allowed me to pull a handkerchief from my skirtband and surrept.i.tiously blot my eyes and nose. Her example showed me how women could help each other preserve decorum, and I hoped that one day I would be as deft as she in this regard. rang in my ears. I felt terrible for wanting to hear the story as if it were gossip. I remembered Teacher Yee and what she'd suffered. My eyes filled with the horror of it, and the shame. "Yes, child," said Imo quietly. "When the news came out, everyone was shocked and there were many protests." I felt pangs of sadness for my teacher and the queen's tragic end, and was glad to have sewing to hold my attention until the intensity of the feelings eased. Imo asked me to get her a deck of cards from across the room, which allowed me to pull a handkerchief from my skirtband and surrept.i.tiously blot my eyes and nose. Her example showed me how women could help each other preserve decorum, and I hoped that one day I would be as deft as she in this regard.

Imo shuffled cards and played solitaire, while coals smoldered in the iron brazier. I embroidered a floral edging on several meters of heavy blue silk that would be a gift to the princess. The rain fell and fell.

"They tried to suppress the news for as long as possible, and held the king at the palace, as if under house arrest. A few months later he managed to escape, hidden in a palanquin. He fled to the Russian legation where he stayed for almost a year. As you can imagine, this was an extremely difficult time for the royal family, for the whole country. The j.a.panese had taken control of Gyeongbuk Palace entirely. The king had no alternative but to move into Deoksu Palace-back then it was called Gyeongun Palace. He tried to consolidate power and strengthen the monarchy during that time. He made Korea an empire and initiated many laws that changed the old ways. But he had no army, no palace guard, and the j.a.panese had maneuvered Korean ministers favorable to their cause into his cabinet. The government was in chaos, and the people were angry because the queen had been murdered and nothing was being done. They had a trial in Tokyo for the a.s.sa.s.sin, Miura, but everyone knew it was a sham." She stopped speaking for a while. Her cards clacked against each other, the silk in my lap rustled and the wooden embroidery frame creaked. The sound of rainfall on the roof tiles gently thinned.

Captivated by this tragic story, and remembering that Imo said she would've been about my age when the queen was murdered, I felt very close to my aunt. I sewed and waited for her to continue.

"Yah, I won." She displayed all forty-eight cards face up and perfectly arranged.

"Lucky!" I said.

She admired the cards and swept them together to shuffle. Her features and posture remained unchanged, but her words sounded deliberately casual. "Yes, lucky. I was married in 1900 because it was supposed to be a lucky year. Indeed, good luck came soon. I bore a son, and soon after that, my husband was appointed prime minister."

My needle went in and out, in and out, and now, knowing where her story was heading, I felt sorry and incompetent. I tried fruitlessly to think what my mother would do or say in the coming moment.

"Lady Om, Emperor Gojong's third consort, knew my husband's family was completely loyal to the emperor, and since we were both young mothers, I became her companion. My son played and studied with Lady Om's son, Prince Yi Un, who was just a little older. By then, the crown prince-the present Emperor Sunjong-was married, and his wife, Lady Yun, also asked for my companions.h.i.+p. So I was blessed to have the affection of these sage personages. It was around that time that the crown prince's coffee was poisoned, and he and the tasting eunuch nearly died. After that, because it's easier to find blame than to uncover truth, many thought this illness had spoiled his intellect and made him weak-and yes, his body was weakened and he was rendered impotent-but he proved his piety to his father and his kingdom by fighting death, by remaining alive. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

She asked this with surprising severity, so I took time to think. Before meeting Imo, I had wondered about her widowhood. I'd read that in the old days, a yangban widow-unmarriageable, with a childless future, and a burden to the family-was considered supremely virtuous if, when her husband died, she committed suicide. I had questioned Yee Sunsaengnim's death as being an honor suicide, and understanding what she'd suffered, thought that in a way it was. It angered and saddened me anew that her unbearable shame caused her to kill herself, especially since she was blameless. Across the room the lamplight touched my aunt like moonlight reflecting on the surface of a well. She was deeply beautiful in that moment.

I knew that many people blamed Emperor Gojong and now his son, Emperor Sunjong, for j.a.pan's dominance, and that several ministers and court officials had committed suicide after the Protectorate Treaty of 1905, and again after the annexation in 1910. That my schoolmates had spread rumors about Emperor Sunjong's idiocy showed the degree of disrespect with which he and the monarchy had come to be regarded. Even my father said that nowadays only traitors and collaborators received high appointments in court. Emperor Sunjong hadn't chosen to be wedged in the impossible situation between royal responsibility to his bloodline and accepting blame-and shame-for the annexation. I was too confused to clearly say what these thoughts meant, but concluded that casting blame was far easier than learning more and thinking deeper about the whole story, the whole person-like Imo and my beloved Teacher Yee-and to die because of it was horrendous, and wrong.

I put my sewing down and looked at my aunt. "Yes, Imo-nim, I understand." She nodded as gravely as I had spoken.

"So then," she said slowly, placing cards face down in a careful pyramid, "years later, Deoksu Palace was where Emperor Gojong died, as did Lady Om. Neither was sick, yet both died in their sleep." She collapsed her unfinished game and gathered the cards. "My husband the prime minister and our five-year-old son also died there."

I felt terrible for my imo-nim but could think of nothing correct or helpful to say. All the words I knew seemed pointless. We sat quietly performing our activities, our backs straight and fingers steady. My needle worked the silk almost automatically, its thread a gossamer shadow in the lamplight. I realized that the high manners and the virtue of decorum permitted and encouraged this silence, and I was somewhat comforted in knowing that it was proper to leave so much unsaid. But it made me feel helpless, uncaring and young, and I felt a frustrated spark of rebellion nudging me toward anger, but I subdued it. After that evening, Imo never again mentioned her husband or son, or anything at all from those years, nor did I ask.

AT LAST, IMO decided I was presentable and sent a note to First Marquis Yun, who was also the empress's father. An invitation soon came from the palace. Monsoon season had come and gone, was.h.i.+ng the city of pollen and the yellow dust from spring's southwest winds. Bright colors burst from gardens and flowerboxes, and trees grew heavy with birds singing on supple young branches bright with new leaves. I rose at dawn, ate porridge and studied the usual three hours to keep pace with schoolwork. After I bathed, Imo tamed my hair with oil and braided it tightly, added augmenting hairpieces and wound it like a thick halo around my head. She patted powder on my cheeks and clipped white jade yin-yang shapes on my ears. We ate the midmorning meal, then she helped me dress and colored my lips. Wearing the rose-pink skirt with a sheer linen blouse, new socks and gloves, I sat in the entryway and waited for her to dress. The earrings pinched, giving me a headache and adding to my nervousness. I breathed deeply and folded my hands in my lap. The appearance of calm will generate calm, Imo had said.

We walked to Changdeok Palace, where Emperor Sunjong's Yunghui reign had begun after his father was forced to abdicate in 1907. We regarded him as our emperor, but Imo had taught me that we were to officially address him as His Imperial Highness the Grand Prince, and the empress similarly. That this was clearly a demotion of t.i.tle was among the many things that remained unsaid during my time with Imo. At the main gate, our papers were checked and a phone call was made. I had never seen a telephone used before, nor had I been near so many j.a.panese guards. All I saw were pocket flaps, belts, b.u.t.tons and leather boots. Two guards escorted us across the broad first plaza past a smaller but equally colorful and as heavily guarded gate, through which I could see the abandoned, expansive royal courtyard where all the cabinet ministers and court dignitaries had once stood, ceremoniously facing the audience hall further on, all its doors now shuttered. We walked sedately to avoid raising dust in the immaculately leveled courtyards, and pa.s.sed the emperor's residence far to our left, where a fancy automobile sat in a semicircular driveway and more guards stood by the doors.

Another turn to the right and we saw the empress's residence of plain mortar and unpainted wood nestled serenely in trees, a scene which made me yearn for home. At the third house of this complex we were shown into a broad sitting room, where the princess was playing cat's cradle with a middle-aged lady-in-waiting. After bows, formalities and giving her the gift of the embroidered blue silk, I murmured, "Your Imperial Highness, this person gives sincere thanks for your kind invitation."

"What fun. How sweetly spoken! Please come and sit with me. How thin you are. Look at your wrists compared to mine!" Her tiny voice was measured and lyrical, and she grasped my hands. Surprised at such casual touching from royalty, I almost withdrew. Her wrists were rounded and soft like Imo's, and her skin's delicate whiteness recalled my father's description of me as being dark as a peasant. She wore a sheer white silk top and pale green skirt of exquisite quality, and her hair was styled in elaborately wrapped braids. She draped the cat's cradle cord around my fingers. "Do you know how to play?"

How graciously she had put me at ease! "Your Imperial Highness is too kind to allow this person to sit beside you." She looked smaller than me but acted with far more refinement than one would expect from a twelve-year-old.

"Yes, of course. Let's play. You start."

With Imo watching, I knotted patterns that would be easy for the princess to refigure. I was careful to position my hands to avoid touching hers. Her rice-cake cheeks and the simplicity in her straight-line eyes gave her an indolent air, as if an easy summer's day had begun its descent into dusk. I kept the game going until I sensed she was losing interest, then pretended to fumble and lost the figure.

"Oh no!" she cried with obvious pleasure. "We must try again." After a few turns, Imo bowed to the princess, gave me an approving look and left to spend the morning with Empress Yun. The princess and I played for hours. Naturally, I had played all sorts of games with Dongsaeng many times, but never for as long as I played with the princess. I greatly enjoyed the leisure and won and lost just the right amount to keep her amused. Her playthings, most foreign and still in unopened boxes, filled two cabinets that I longed to explore, but she was only interested in simple games. I found it easy to be both deferential and inventive with her toys. Kaleidoscopes became telescopes. Each turn of the gla.s.s showed another aspect of her magic kingdom, which we described to each other, back and forth, until she said it was perfect. We made her wind-up tin toys waddle and roll across the floor, then gave them all names and roles in her magic kingdom. Of the characters I made up, she wanted to know more about the jajangmyeon jajangmyeon man-the vendor who ladled a sweet black-bean sauce over a steaming bowl of noodles-the sandal peddler, mermaid, missionary, and neighbor girls who walked arm in arm to school. She made her tin characters into changing guards, chamberlain, nephew of the lord steward-to whom I knew she was secretly betrothed-duke, ladies-in-waiting and eunuch. I was curious to know more about the chauffeurs and how it felt to ride in the Daimler or the Cadillac, wanted to hear more about the fourth and fifth wives, and what it was like to have a tasting servant, but didn't ask. man-the vendor who ladled a sweet black-bean sauce over a steaming bowl of noodles-the sandal peddler, mermaid, missionary, and neighbor girls who walked arm in arm to school. She made her tin characters into changing guards, chamberlain, nephew of the lord steward-to whom I knew she was secretly betrothed-duke, ladies-in-waiting and eunuch. I was curious to know more about the chauffeurs and how it felt to ride in the Daimler or the Cadillac, wanted to hear more about the fourth and fifth wives, and what it was like to have a tasting servant, but didn't ask.

I was presented to Empress Yun in Nakson Hall late in the afternoon. Spare furnis.h.i.+ngs enhanced the harmony of the s.p.a.cious rooms trimmed with intricate sh.e.l.l inlay and carved wood. I could tell that Imo was pleased with my bow and greeting. The empress was tall, with heightened hair that made her look even more imposing. She wore a deep pink-and-white hanbok with delicate gold borders. Her straight eyes had brows that pointed slightly downward to an elegant nose, making her gaze appear sharply intelligent. Her full bottom lip underlined an impression of resolve. She nodded to a folding screen spread behind her that was made of eight separate but related paintings of the Four Gentlemanly Plants- plum blossom, orchid, chrysanthemum and bamboo-with dramatic mountains and valley in the background, each section showing changes of season. On the fully opened screen they comprised a complete and stunning panorama of fore- and background subjects. "Do you see how skillfully the artist has used the writing as its own element in the composition?" she said, indicating how the expressive calligraphy of four poems, songs to the seasons, was strikingly positioned to enhance both images and poetry. "And see there-" She pointed to the signature, and I recognized my father's chop.

Of course I knew my father was a literati painter of some renown, and that our ancestors had a long history of royal patronage, but to see his work in the sitting room of the empress made me both understand his talent and respect him in a different, larger way. I bowed deeply. "This insignificant person is honored and indebted that Her Imperial Highness has generously allowed recognition of her father's art."

"She's quite charming," Empress Yun said to Imo. "There's another screen that's even more impressive in Huijongdang. Perhaps we'll arrange for you to see it one day." Huijongdang was the emperor's residence, so I knew I would never see it. It was enough to know that my father's art lived daily among the royal family. It made me quite breathless.

The empress received a message and smiled at me. "It seems the princess also finds your niece charming," she said to Imo. They discussed a schedule, and my aunt thoughtfully requested that allowances be made for me to attend upper school.

It was decided that I'd go to school six days of the week and attend to Princess Deokhye in the afternoons until an hour before sunset. Then Pang would come to escort me, or I'd walk home with Imo if she were there. The palace had electric lighting generated by an on-site powerhouse built in 1886, which allowed us to study and play late into the day and long after sunset, even in the winter. Because of the electric lights, and because my school was closer to the palace than to Imo's house, during the week I began spending nights in a room vacated by a lady-in-waiting at Sugang Hall, the princess's house. In the beginning I was so self-conscious to be an overnight guest that I could barely sleep, but it wasn't too long before the princess's retinue referred to the room I slept in as mine. This was a relaxation in protocol that was just another wave in the ebbing tide of royal glory.

I MET THE emperor on Chuseok, the Harvest Moon Festival, that year. It was also the j.a.panese holiday Shubun no hi, Autumn Equinox Day, so this most important Korean holiday continued to be celebrated under a different name. It brought the court together for the first time since I'd been there. I woke sad that morning, missing Dongsaeng and my mother on the holiday, but the colorful preparations for high ceremony soon chased my homesickness away.

At the palace, we watched j.a.panese military officers and guards on horses lead a procession of palanquins carrying the royal family and dignitaries down the road to Jongmyo Shrine, which held the memorial tablets of Joseon Dynasty kings and queens. The day was crisp and clear, making the traditional dress of the royalty and ministers brilliant with jeweltones and sheen. Then came rows of men in dark uniforms festooned with ribbons, gold bullion fringe and sashes. A few of these ministers and court officials were j.a.panese; the others probably were-as my father would disgustedly say-collaborators. We were among the guests following on foot with a rear guard, after which a number of invited spectators joined the parade. The streets were closed to traffic and the route lined with guards, behind which ordinary people thronged to watch the rituals. Since I had never seen a Confucian ceremony, I hadn't expected the religious solemnity throughout the morning-from the ceremonial march, to the bows, prayers and offerings to the ancestors. Imo told me later that the order of wors.h.i.+p had been drastically shortened, and she didn't mention the obvious, that it had also been altered to include references to j.a.panese imperial ancestors.

We went back to the palace to line up in the courtyard and wait our turn to bow to the emperor and empress-Imo with her group of the empress's courtiers, and me with the princess's retinue. My feet ached from stiff cotton dress shoes, but the pain was forgotten once I reached the steps of Sungjong-jun, the airy hall where, in the olden days, administrative matters were dealt with. That the throne room wasn't being used for this ceremony joined the things that no one mentioned.

A musty damp smell seemed trapped by the tall colorful ceiling, and the walls painted with decorative patterns and peac.o.c.k murals were faded and peeling. Dignitaries and ministers and their wives sat on floor cus.h.i.+ons in order of rank around the perimeter. The emperor sat in a chair on a raised platform made of red lacquer and mother-of-pearl. He had changed his clothes to a Western-style military dress uniform studded with medals and festooned with gold braid, and as I neared I thought irreverently that he looked stiff and awkward sitting on a gold-leafed chair placed in the center of a cinnabar-colored riser. The chair didn't belong on a platform designed to be directly sat on. To the right of the platform the empress also sat stiffly on a chair, and on the other side, the chamberlain sat on a floor mat at a table, announcing the name of each person as he or she stepped forward and bowed. Several officials cl.u.s.tered nearby, some with obvious roles, such as the secretariat who recorded every word the emperor uttered, and others, j.a.panese men-wearing white gloves and what I later learned were tuxedoes-who stood near the walls and behind the platform looking stern.

"Han Najin," cried the chamberlain. I approached and carefully bowed. He announced I was the daughter of the calligrapher Han, the Gaeseong scholar and literati-artist from the Gw.a.n.gmu reign. I dared to steal glances at the emperor's face as I approached, and was reminded of what I had once overheard two ladies-in-waiting say, that his eyes were as empty as a broken pail. They didn't look empty to me, but melancholy and simple, like Princess Deokhye's, and with a sweetness that comes from such simplicity. He had the same pale soft cheeks as his half-sister. I found his presence neither commanding nor particularly regal except in posture and dress.

The empress said with just enough volume for me to discern it, "Your Imperial Highness knows the young lady's father's scrolls."

What an honor that she would mention this! I stayed in position and kept my head bowed.

"We remember it. An excellent screen." His high voice had richness to it, as if his words floated on a river of seed oil. "It was greatly favored and is now on display at Seokjo-jung." This structure at Deoksu Palace was an enormous and hideous Greek revival that an Englishman had started to build. The j.a.panese had recently finished its construction and made it into a public art museum. Years later I would remember this conversation with the emperor, when I learned that the best Korean art in that museum had been s.h.i.+pped to Tokyo, and could only conclude that my father's screens were among that conscription.

I bowed again to the emperor's recognition, although I wasn't sure if my father would be pleased or find fault with public display of his work. A pause ensued. The emperor's features were placid, and it seemed he might be waiting for me to speak. I sneaked a look at the empress, who nodded imperceptibly. "Thank you," I said, using the elaborate idiom reserved exclusively for the emperor, "for Your Imperial Highness's kindness to this person's worthless family."

"Ah, now we remember that our little sister favors your company. We are glad for your companions.h.i.+p to her." He smiled beneath his mustache, and I was awed.

"Your Imperial Highness has blessed this person's family with his generous kindness and affection. May the bounty of heaven on Chuseok bring good health, prosperity and long life to Your Highnesses." I rose and retreated, bowing, trembling with excitement, and grateful that Imo had taught me so well.

AND SO NEARLY two years pa.s.sed. I wrote home frequently and received as many letters from Mother, who reminded me always to be considerate of my aunt, respectful to the royalty, kind to the servants, and to read my Bible and study hard. As the seasons changed, she described which bushes had blossomed, when the maple tree turned red then brown, and how much snow filled the courtyards. She kept me updated on Dongsaeng's progress with his tutor, and when Ilsun came of age and was required to attend public school, that Father had enrolled him in the missionaries' lower school for boys. She mentioned how proud my father was of Dongsaeng's calligraphy, and told me consistent good news about Father's health. I didn't expect that she would say more, but wondered how angry he was with me, and if he was still angry with her.

During my stay with Imo I saw the emperor more than a dozen times, on holy days and festivals, and he always remembered me and was consistently kind. Because of Imo's companions.h.i.+p with the empress, I saw Empress Yun more often, and she was most attentive and affectionate. In those years I finished upper school and helped Princess Deokhye with homework from her tutors, particularly the sciences that she found boring, but which fascinated me. Someone was always nearby, even when she slept, which made the hours we spent together, playing, studying or sewing, formal. Only rarely did we find a chance to speak intimately.

One such opportunity came late in April 1926 on a sultry afternoon. Princess Deokhye and her retinue, including Madame Bongnyeong, her mother, were going to the large pond in Biwon Garden to see the cherry blossoms. We had visited the garden weekly to enjoy the various stages of bloom, and the flowers were now in final decline, a stage considered by many to be the finest. Servants had gone ahead to prepare the south pavilion with mats, pillows and refreshments. Two j.a.panese guards accompanied us: one in front near the princess being carried piggyback by a maid, and the other trailing me at the rear. The princess wasn't allowed to leave Sugang Hall without protection, and these two guards were often in our company. In a basket I carried bamboo propellers to toss and paper to make flowers. We all walked slowly in single file enjoying the petals, windblown like snowflakes and coating the path with pink. I smelled the cherry blossoms' delicate perfume and idly twirled a propeller in my hand. A broken flagstone made me trip, my hands flailing. I caught my balance, but somehow the propeller flew from my fingers and hit the face of the guard behind me. "Ow!" He stopped and covered his right eye.

"I'm so sorry!" I said, alarmed that I'd struck a j.a.panese guard. He grimaced, and my manners automatically surfaced. "Sir, are you hurt?"

"It's nothing." He picked up the propeller and gave it to me, and I studied his face for damage. Tears streamed from his reddened eye. He smiled. "You've made me cry."

"I'm sorry!" Startled, I turned back to the path. The ladies ahead were around a corner and out of sight. My glimpse of him registered a teasing, youthful smile and handsomely hollowed cheeks. I stopped to look at him again, to be sure I'd understood him correctly. Had it been a painful or furious grimace? His expressive eyebrows, one up and one down, clearly showed a mix of pain and joviality. "Don't rub it! You'll make it worse." It must've been because he reminded me of Hansu that I spoke to him with such familiarity-and then gave him my handkerchief.

He blotted his eye, then stiffened, his hand midair, caught between using my handkerchief again and returning it. "My apologies. I shouldn't have used it."

First teasing, then politeness! His tears continued and he winced rapidly, so I knew I'd scratched his eye. "No, it's completely my fault. Please keep it." A vision of Imo's alarmed-and-dismayed expression at this enormously inappropriate exchange dropped like a curtain between us, and I turned and hurried up the path, certain he could see my neck aflame. When I reached the line, I heard the lady ahead talking to me midsentence about the loveliness of the garden, not knowing I had just reappeared. I clutched the guilty propeller, thinking only of the guard with the tearing eye-and with my good linen handkerchief-following behind. My head spun.

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 j.a.panese 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 cla.s.sroom 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. Can you imagine? So I'm happy you agree!"

"The princess is too kind-"

"Silly. You're my friend."

"This person is honored."

She sighed and glanced at Madame Bongnyeong. "No, Hyung-nim, I'm grateful. I didn't know how lonely I was until you came."

Surprised and flattered that she used the intimate and respectful word for friend, I bowed my head. "Your Highness."

Madame Bongnyeong finished the chapter and said, "Shall I continue?"

"Yes, if you'd be kind enough to indulge us. Your reading is very soothing." The princess picked up a paper flower and gazed at the gardens. "Now I will tell you a secret." I leaned closer and she smiled smugly. "Do you know the lord steward? He's the tall one with gla.s.ses and the pointed nose. Skinny, like you. He has elegant manners, and maybe if he took off his gla.s.ses, he could be very handsome for an old man."

"I've seen him from far away." Knowing what she would soon reveal, I said, "He looks regal. I think he has strong features-quite good-looking and distinguished."

She leaned closer. "I'm secretly engaged to his nephew."

I acted appropriately surprised. "Since when? Have you ever met your betrothed?"

"Of course not. His family doesn't even live in Seoul. Since I was seven and he was four."

"So early!"

"Yes." She unfolded and refolded the paper flower. "Do you know about my fourth brother, Prince Uimin?"

"The one who went to study at Tokyo University?"

She nodded. "Lady Yun told me that because he was the heir apparent, they made him go to school in j.a.pan. When my family learned he had become engaged to a j.a.panese princess, they betrothed me right away. They wanted to be sure I'd marry someone appropriate." By appropriate appropriate I knew she meant Korean. I knew she meant Korean.

"I'm sorry," I said. I thought I understood her bouts of melancholy. For such a young and always-watched girl, her family's complicated circ.u.mstances undoubtedly made life hard to bear. In light of this and my foolish propeller story, I said, "I'm ashamed I told you about the guard."

"No, don't be. It's partly why I'm telling you this. She was very nice- my brother's wife, Princess Masako of Nas.h.i.+moto-very good to me, kind and beautifully poised. We call her Princess Bangja."

"When did you meet her?"

"A year after they married, they came home to visit." Princess Deokhye tore a corner of the crimson paper flower and shredded it. A breeze floated the pieces until they landed on the lotus leaves. "Maybe they shouldn't have come, because their son got sick and died here. Only nine months old-too sad!" She scattered the last tiny pieces on the pond, where they melted like drops of blood.

"How sad!" I echoed sympathetically.

"He would've been heir. I heard gossip from mean people that it was just as well-better than having a half-j.a.panese heir. But the emperor mourned as much as the parents."

As it had been with Imo, I felt helpless and could think of nothing to say. I handed her another paper flower and leaned a little closer to her. We sat quietly, watching cherry blossom petals fluttering to the pond, and listened to Madame Bongnyeong's steady reading. The other group climbed noisily down the path toward our pavilion. Princess Deokhye touched my hand and said, "Princess Bangja couldn't have been more refined and affectionate to me, even in her grief. And some of the guards-like yours-"

"He's not mine!"

"He is if I say so!"

I mock-frowned, and she laughed behind her hand.

"He always speaks courteously, not like some of the others who show nothing on their faces but that stupid smug superiority."

"Here they come. I understand what you're saying," I said quickly. "They're not all the same, yes?"

She nodded.

"Your Highness is most gracious in her concern by sharing her feelings about Princess Bangja. This person is undeserving of your affection and kindness."

"You are my friend." She smiled and held my hand a moment, then turned and said to Madame Bongnyeong, "Thank you for the exquisite reading. We enjoyed it immensely." She raised her voice to the returning ladies and servants. "Aigu, but what a wonderful reading you missed! Madame, next time you must favor us again and reread those chapters." Madame Bongnyeong bowed, and it was time to go.

The princess climbed on the back of her strong maid, the ladies-in-waiting gathered the baskets of flowers and empty food containers, and the eunuch and servants cleared the pavilion of mats, pillows, dishes and cups, leaving it as serene as before we came. I walked close behind the princess and thus avoided the rear guard, whose red eye, I noticed, had calmed somewhat. I wondered what would become of my handkerchief, which was most likely tucked into his breast pocket. The image of my hand-st.i.tched linen lying close to his heart made me flush with pleasure and shame.

I SPENT THAT night, a Sat.u.r.day, in Sugang Hall. On most Sundays, Imo and I attended the Methodist church southeast of the palace, near Ewha, but the princess's requests to keep her company on Sat.u.r.day nights took precedence. I worried what my mother would say upon learning how infrequently I went to church, but Imo said I'd be fine as long as I kept up with Bible reading and prayers. By then I was reading the boring Acts, skimming, and my prayers had grown rote and hasty. I also regularly invoked Heaven and Ancestors with the princess, but not for a second did I think I was any less Christian than before.

Sunday morning, as usual, I woke at dawn to the sound of guards marching on the palace grounds. I snuggled in the blankets for a few minutes, warmed by thoughts of yesterday's declarations of friends.h.i.+p from Princess Deokhye. As I washed and dressed, I ashamedly wondered if I'd see the young guard today before going home to Imo.

Keening cries swelled in the dawning morning, and I wondered how roosters could have entered the palace. Then I heard commotion and Princess Deokhye cry out. I quickly tied my blouse and hurried toward her rooms. Her eunuch was prostrate and several maids were crowded around her door. Exaggerated cries of mourning came from the ladies who surrounded her so thickly that I couldn't see her. The breakfast tray and bowls were scattered on the floor and steam spiraled from spilled porridge. Fear struck and I shouted "No!" Then came tears of relief to see the princess sit up, and fear again when I saw her face contorted in pain. The strong maid pulled me into the room and pushed me to the princess. Sinking to the floor beside her, I instinctively opened my arms, and she clung to me, her body shaking with sobs.

"The emperor-my brother-is dead!"

I remembered Queen Min and felt cold. The princess cried and I held her close.

"They-they-tell her!" she cried.

One of the ladies said, "They found him dead early this morning. The doctor said he died in his sleep."

Someone else said softly through tears, "ChoongHo was also found dead this morning, laid out in bed still in her clothes." A woman wailed the quivering song of mourning. ChoongHo was the emperor's tasting servant. I remembered Imo's stories about Gyeongbuk Palace, and the eunuch and thenCrown Prince Sunjong, who both had nearly died in the coffee-poisoning plot.

I held the princess and rocked her. "Oh, my poor dear sister." The pulsing laments filled the room, seeped into our souls and poured out the windows, sending our grief to the heavens. The cries were met by others coming from Nakson Hall, and I said, "You must go to the empress." And by uttering this last word, knowing that Crown Prince Uimin lived in Tokyo, I truly understood that the emperor, and thus, the empire, had died.

This enormity and grief for the princess weakened my legs, but I helped her stand and, with the others following, walked toward the pa.s.sageway that connected Sugang Hall to the empress's house. Four guards stood in the pa.s.sage entrance, shoulders stiff, feet spread, hands on their sabers. "For your protection and that of the grand princess, you must remain here," said the guard with a stripe on his sleeve.