China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

overnight at one of the guest villas. There were quite a number of these princes, mostly the descendants of former emperors’ brothers. Some of these cousinships went back centuries. Their exact rank depended on what great deeds their ancestors had done and their present importance in the office they held themselves.

The first two to get out of the carriage were the tall figure of Prince Sushun and his brother Prince Zheng, both royal clansmen and advisors of the emperor.

The second pair were two of the emperor’s half-brothers, the princes Chun and Gong. For the emperor had several half-brothers by various concubines, all younger than he was.

Prince Chun was a very handsome young military officer, only twenty years old, I think, but just married to the Noble Consort Yi’s sister—probably a shrewd career move on his part, though the young couple were already devoted to each other. He was mostly busy with his military duties and did not often come to court.

The one who counted was Prince Gong, who was nearly the same age as the emperor, though he had a different mother. He wasn’t impressive to look at, and he had a little cicatrix on his cheek, from a boil that had been badly lanced, I believe. He had a high domed forehead, his eyes were set very wide apart, and he was wise for his years.

I’d seen Prince Gong a few times before. Not only was he close to the emperor, but there was a retired lady of the court he often came to visit who had quarters in a villa near the lake. She was yet another of his late father’s imperial concubines, and when his own mother had died young, this lady had become like a second mother to him. He called her Auntie and was quite devoted to her.

Old Mr. Ma wasn’t looking at Prince Gong, though, but at Sushun and his brother. “Here come the vultures,” he murmured. I think it was just a trick of the light, but Prince Sushun and his brother did look strangely like birds of prey just then.

“Are they so bad?” I whispered.

“Sushun’s enormously rich,” said the old gardener, “but he always wants more money. That’s why he got himself put in charge of the treasury. People hate him.” He waited until they’d disappeared inside. “It’s a pity the last emperor died so early in life. Each emperor’s quite free to choose his successor from amongst his sons, you know. Prince Gong, even as a boy, showed great promise as a future soldier and administrator. But his elder brother was a better scholar, so his father chose him. If he’d lived longer, he might have discovered the weakness of the elder boy’s character and chosen Prince Gong instead.”

“If the emperor dies,” I ventured, for we were quite alone, “could Prince Gong…?”

“No. They made the rule a long time ago: The throne must always pass down a generation. Otherwise the royal brothers will start fighting each other. It’s happened in the past.” He nodded. “We must always learn from history.”

“Why did you call them vultures?”

“They all want power. The weaker the emperor, the more power they have over him. Rule by council, that’s the trick. In that respect, even Prince Gong’s no different. Did you know that he’s taken a motto for himself? ‘No Private Heart.’ He means that he seeks only to serve, with no thought for himself.” He smiled. “Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“He wants to rule from behind the throne. Actually, it might be a good thing if he did.”

“So if the emperor died, who’d be on the throne?” I whispered.

“Depends whom the emperor designates as his heir. Normally, he could select a grown-up nephew. But there aren’t any yet. He could turn to a son of one of his royal cousins, I suppose, as long as it’s the right generation. With all their consorts and concubines, most emperors produced lots of sons and grandsons, you know. Someone could be found.”

“What about the Noble Consort Yi’s little boy?” I asked.

“Too young, wouldn’t you say?”

I didn’t answer. I was thinking, If the emperor dies and another prince is chosen, the Noble Consort Yi will be lucky to get a room in one of the villas. Perhaps something worse might happen to her. Either way, not good for me.

—

The Solstice came. In the old days it used to be a three-day holiday. It’s just one day now. But it was very pleasant. The court ladies gave one another colored fans and little sweet-scented sachets. The sachets, actually, were most useful in that residence between the lakes, since their smell kept the mosquitoes off.

And we all ate noodles. Down in the south, at the Solstice, they eat dog meat and lychees, both of which I dislike—another good reason not to live in the south, in my opinion.

Eight days after the Solstice, the Noble Consort Yi sent me home again for three whole days. When I returned, there was a full moon, and all of us, including the emperor, went out onto the bridges to the islands and gazed at the moon in the water as the twilight slowly turned to darkness. The best musician went out onto the lake in a boat and played the erhu. And although the crickets were making quite a noise, there was no wind, and we could hear every note. I shall always remember that.

The Solstice season was followed by twenty days of peace. Everyone seemed to be happy. The Lesser Heat was quite mild. But when the Greater Heat began, the humid air became oppressive. A storm was due, and we looked forward to the sense of release when it came.

—

The messenger who brought the bad news arrived an hour after dawn. The emperor and his family were supposed to visit the Island of Shrines that afternoon, and when we heard the news, we assumed the outing would be canceled. But it wasn’t. Perhaps the emperor wants to pray at