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

“He’s planning to kill me, you know,” he remarked.

“I’ve never heard him say it,” I replied.

“Well, perhaps you can persuade him not to,” he suggested cheerfully.

Then I left.

—

It was a couple of hours later when I went along the corridor and over the narrow bridge that led to the emperor’s pavilion. The bridge was always guarded, to see he didn’t get out, really; but the guards let me through without a word.

I found him lying on a divan. Though he was still only in his thirties, he seemed like a man in decline. His hair was thinning. His face looked a little blue, and I noticed that there were telltale white bands across his fingernails. From arsenic, I guessed.

“I came to see if Your Majesty wanted any company,” I said softly.

“Not really,” he said. But then he sat up. “Is anything happening out there, Lacquer Nail?”

“I wouldn’t say a lot,” I replied. “I was with the dowager empress earlier today, doing her nails. I thought she was tired.”

“Is she unwell?”

“She’s got such a spirit,” I said, “that it’s very hard to know. She’s not getting any younger. She worries about you, I think.”

“She sent you to spy on me?”

“No.” I smiled. “She’s got half the eunuchs in the palace to do that. You know how it is.”

He laughed when I said that. “They’re not cleaning my rooms properly,” he said with a frown.

“I can tell her that,” I said. “She’ll have them whipped.”

“Good. You do that,” he said. Then he dropped his voice. “How do I look to you?”

“You don’t look well,” I said. “As if you haven’t been eating properly or taking any exercise, if you’ll forgive my saying so.”

“I think they’re trying to poison me. Do you think they are?”

“I don’t know why they would be,” I replied. “I always thought they needed you there. Everything has to be done in your name, after all.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” The thought seemed to please him. “Tell me more about Cixi.”

“She was complaining about the railways,” I said. “Though she’s been in a train, I know for a fact.”

“What’s new?” He gave a small laugh. “Did you see anyone else?”

“Yes,” I said. “General Yuan was waiting for an audience with her when I was leaving.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Only that he thinks you’re planning to kill him.”

“Hmm.” He pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. “Well, he got that right, anyway,” he said. “Too big for his boots. And if Cixi dies and I’m incapacitated, I’ve written instructions that he’s to be beheaded.” And he nodded with satisfaction.

And then I understood. Cixi was right. If he was rash enough to kill Yuan, he shouldn’t be ruling. And worse still, if he was stupid enough to tell me, then he was never going to learn anything.

“Shall we play a game of checkers?” I suggested. And for an hour or so we amused ourselves with that.

“I’m tired now,” he said finally. “Will you come back again and see me soon?”

“Whatever Your Majesty desires,” I replied. “Sometimes,” I said gently, “I smoke an opium pipe, to calm my nerves. Would Your Majesty like it if I brought pipes for us both another time?”

“Can you do that?” he asked.

“Oh, I think so,” I replied.

—

Cixi sent word that I should come to see her the next day. She was clearly going downhill, but her mind was still clear as a bell.

“You know, Lacquer Nail,” she said, “if the emperor were unable to resume his duties after my death, it would be necessary to make other arrangements for the succession.”

“I suppose it would.” I didn’t say anything else. Just that.

“The father of the emperor, Prince Chun, has another son, not by my sister.”

“Of course,” I said. “The young Prince Chun.”

“The young Prince Chun is the same generation as the emperor,” she went on, “so he is not supposed to succeed him.”

That’s exactly the rule you broke when you selected your sister’s son to be emperor last time, I thought. But all I said was: “These things are complex.”

“But the young Prince Chun has a son, by a woman I personally selected for him.”

And whom he hates, I might have said.

“You mean the boy they call Puyi?” I asked.

“Puyi could be the heir. His father could be regent.”

The child was not even three years old. I stared at her in amazement. What was she thinking of?

And then I thought I understood. The two times she’d seen an emperor actually ruling, it had been a disaster. The first emperor had deserted his post and run away to the north; the second had nearly brought down the administration. The only governments she knew that worked—however badly—in nearly fifty years were regencies. Perhaps she’d come to think that this was a natural state. With Puyi on the throne, she’d guarantee another dozen years of regency, at least.

And what then? Perhaps a wise emperor. There had been wise emperors in the past.

But then I thought about all she’d said to me about change and timing. The final arrangements for the assembly they’d been talking about had been pretty much agreed just weeks before. It was to begin functioning after a period of eleven years. Just about the time little Puyi would reach his majority. Of course, that would all make sense. The new National Assembly would rule and Puyi, in all likelihood, could be a constitutional monarch. I cannot prove this was her plan, but if it was, it might be a pretty good one.

So she did have a plan. A gradual transition. It seemed to me that people might even support it. After all, I’d always supported the Confucian ideal of moral government by a good emperor. But having observed emperors for half a century I had to ask: Where do you find this good emperor? I’d never seen one.

Knowing Cixi as I did, I’m nearly certain of one other thing, too. She suspected the dynasty was doomed, and she wanted