Unlike the Emperor Eternal Ancestor who had tried to keep us safe by conquering them and occupying their unworkable land from the steppes of Mongolia to the Gobi desert, I forced my husband to give these wild regions their autonomy and to appoint the local dignitaries as governors. The previous emperor had secured the obedience of these unstable regions with brutal bloodshed, but I bought it with the gold that my people gave willingly to avoid war. In a few years, the revolts had dwindled, but I knew that this period of calm was deceptive. The nomadic peoples had a predatory streak and a longing for freedom that no violence or gentleness would ever quell. My only fear was that they might unite against us. Thanks to the loose tongues of Chinese arms traders, I succeeded in maintaining the discord between the different tribes and in kindling hatred between their leaders. I prolonged the peace by alternating military repression and secret agreements.
When an empire embarks on a cycle of growth, it instills spirit and courage in its warriors. In the fifth year of Dazzling Prosperity, our vessels were called to the kingdom of Sinra, which was in danger once again; they vanquished the Paiktchei invaders and captured their royal family. Our generals offered the latter to Long Peace as victory trophies, and they prostrated themselves at the sovereign’s feet and begged for his clemency. Against the advice of our ministers, who wanted them to be executed, I took the initiative of recognizing the prince and heir as governor and sent him home with supplies to feed his people who were starving in the aftermath of war.
Now isolated, the kingdom of Korea lived its final hour of arrogance. My husband still hoped to have revenge for his father’s defeat. Exalted by their successive victories and carried by a sense of their own invincibility, our soldiers broke the defenses of a ferocious army, laid siege to the capital Ping yang, and forced the Korean court to recognize the suzerainty of our empire.
Emperor Yang of the previous dynasty had raised an army of a million soldiers against Korea three times, and three times his expeditions had failed. His dogged determination had exhausted the people and had cost him the crown. Emperor Eternal Ancestor, the conqueror blessed by the gods, had in turn failed to subjugate this little kingdom. He had come home sickened by his failure, and the regret had killed him. Our victory erased the dark pages of the past and drew out the thorn deep in the flesh of our history. The people saw our military successes as a celebration of their power, while my husband-who had suffered for being the son of a great sovereign-saw it as proof of his own power and virility. He who had never wanted to govern, he who loathed politics, was beginning to believe what I told him every day: His reign was still more glorious than his father’s.
Euphoria spread through the country and reached its apotheosis when dragons appeared in the southern provinces. The honorable sages of Antiquity said that these kings of the River and the Ocean only manifested themselves when peace and happiness reigned on Earth. The erudite scholars of the government’s astrology department interpreted this extraordinary phenomenon as a sign of approval from Heaven addressed to its Son. Our ministers felt they were living in the most enlightened Court of all time, and this filled them with pride and audacity. Several of them begged the sovereign to undertake a pilgrimage to Tai Mountain to make an oblation to Heaven and Earth.
According to the
Book of Rites,
this ancient celebration was carried out by emperors who had accomplished some extraordinary earthly feat. The Annals recorded that-after the Yellow Emperor and the mythical sovereigns-only two emperors had dared take the steep path up Tai Mountain and aspired to saluting the skies: the First Emperor, who had unified China, and the Martial Emperor of the Han dynasty, who had conquered the Barbarians and extended our territories as far as the setting sun.
During his reign, the Emperor Eternal Ancestor had intended to make this sacred pilgrimage, but the fragile state of his convalescing empire had forced him to abandon the plan. I begged my husband to carry out this unfulfilled wish. The ancients said that Tai was the sovereign of all mountains, that at its summit a door opened into the celestial world. I dreamed of grasping the mysterious power of mountains: As they reared up impetuously, the earth joined the sky.
My enthusiasm could not sweep aside Little Phoenix’s scruples; like every son crushed by the weight of a daunting inheritance, he was wracked with despondency and doubt when he had to surpass himself. He said that his crown had fallen to him by accident, and, as a simple mortal and a humble servant of the Empire, he wondered: Was he invested with the Celestial Will, was he worthy of being the one and only initiated person on Earth, was he the sublime sacrifice that the people made to the gods, and was he the Savior of the World? Up there in the mists and the eternal wind, would he not be dizzied by his own ascension and his solitude?
My eyes filled with tears.
“Yes, Majesty, you are this providential son. You have been chosen by the gods to incarnate goodness and generosity; you are the sovereign who will drive out poverty and suffering on Earth!”
The Emperor wept too. He was haunted by a painful childhood deprived of a mother’s love and a distressing adolescence shattered by scheming and fratricide. He could not free himself from the demons coiled within his heart and chose to huddle in the shadows of the Forbidden City.
Two years later, the Palace servants found the footprint of a griffon on the imperial steps to the Pavilion of Perfection. The Ancient Books described this sacred animal’s appearance on Earth as a harbinger of victory and peace. I saw this extraordinary event as a divine sign: I had to bear my husband up to the highest point in life, to the pinnacle of humanity.
The news sent a thrill of excitement through Court officials. I secretly encouraged learned courtiers to send petitions to the sovereign calling for him to climb Tai Mountain. Soon provincial governors, district administrators, chiefs of southern tribes, and western kings joined in unison to make the same request. The sovereign could not decline the invitation of the heavens or his people’s request. He was persuaded.
***
IN THE THIRD month of the fourth year of the Virtue of the Griffon, the Emperor transferred his Court to the eastern capital and arranged to set out with foreign kings and tribal chiefs from the world over. My august husband conducted an extraordinary deliberation during which ministers and scholars used the annals and the books of doctrine to establish the protocol for the ceremonies. They chose sacred melodies and dances and agreed on the list of participants and officiators. I planned the construction of the imperial route and the erection of altars; I renewed the armies’ ceremonial uniforms and took measures to prevent skirmishes along our borders and avoid a possible coup in the capital during the Emperor’s absence.
The ritual for the petition began in the tenth month. During a solemn audience the Supreme Son, the kings and great lords, followed by the Great Ministers, magistrates, advisers, Governor Delegates and foreign princes, all presented their official requests to the sovereign, asking him to make the ascent of the sacred mountain. After refusing three times to demonstrate his humility, my husband announced to the world that he had decided to undertake the pilgrimage. I immediately sent my congratulations to the sovereign, along with a letter in which I disputed the ancestral law that banned all women from the ritual ceremonies. I demanded the right to be the second officiator for the Sacrifice to the Earth.
“According to the rules of the Rites, two ministers will assist the sovereign during the Libation to the Earth. Man is the incarnation of the celestial breath and woman represents earthly powers. Eternity is the product of the transmutation born of the union between Heaven and Earth. How can it be that women should be excluded from the sacrifice which pays homage to her original element? During the ceremony, the shades of every empress will be invoked in prayers for fertility. Is it conceivable that the spirits of these august deceased should appear before strangers, all of them men? Without their honorable presence, the ritual would be incomplete, and no blessing would be granted. It is true that, in China ’s history, no woman has ever been admitted to the supreme Service of the Empire. Should we persist with a shortcoming of the Ancients to the detriment of the future?”
When my letter was read in public during the morning audience, it shocked the Court. I saw amazement and consternation on our ministers’ faces, but the sovereign found my arguments irrefutable: He expressed his approval, and the debate was closed. I would be the first woman to discover the mysteries of these celebrations.
On the twenty-eighth day of the tenth month, there was a chill northern wind, and the coral-colored sun hung in a crystal clear sky. Luoyang was deserted: The main avenue was covered in wet sand, and it gleamed like a golden sword laid down by the gods.
Men in yellow brocade marched slowly from the Southern Gate of the Forbidden City. They held signs with the words “Make way, keep clear” written on them in powdered gold, and they shouted to announce the beginning of the imperial procession.
There was a succession of parades for different dignitaries: first the Administrator from the district of Ten Thousand Years, the Governor of Long Peace, the Great Lord Overseer, and the Minister for Armies; then the Great Generals of the Golden Scepter of the Right and the Left. Both wore purple brocade, black breastplates with red lacing, and gold-plated helmets; they were mounted on horses with plaited manes and tails. They each carried a quiver of twenty-two arrows on their backs, and sabers hung from their leather belts in sheaths inlaid with precious stones. Behind them came an escort of four horsemen holding the lance adorned with yak hair as a symbol of victory.
Two lieutenants of the Golden Scepter headed up a square formation of forty-eight soldiers with scarves wound around their topknots, bronze breastplates, crimson trousers, quivers on their backs, and sabers on their belts. They were accompanied by twenty-four armored foot soldiers.
A group of standard bearers held their banners aloft in the wind, displaying the Crimson Bird, the god of the south.
Then came the procession of six carriages with roadmen marching before them. Each carriage was drawn by four horses and carried fourteen coachmen. The first measured the distance; the second established the direction; the third was decorated with white cranes; the fourth bore the flag of the phoenix; the fifth transported the Great Seer and dispelled evil; the sixth was driven by a soldier of the Golden Scepter armed with a crossbow and was covered in wild animal skins.
Then came two lieutenants of the Golden Scepter and their twelve mounted lancers and archers.
Next came the troop of imperial musicians: twelve drums, twelve golden kettledrums, 120 large drums, and 120 long horns. Small drums, a choir, pipes, and Tatar flutes were lined up in groups of twelve, while 112 flautists with larger flutes marched ahead of the two drums setting the rhythm. Then came the bamboo flutes, pipes, mouth organs, more Tatar flutes, and mouth organs made of peach wood. Then there were another twelve drums, twelve golden kettledrums, 112 small tambourines, and 112 bugles. Twelve more drums decorated with feathers headed up a square formation comprising a choir, pipes, and Tatar flutes. All of them began to play the solemn melody of the
Emperor’s Departure.
Then came the parades of banners. The two Palace Overseers rode ahead of the Great Librarian and the Great Annalist. The sovereign carriages of Geomancy and of Measures were escorted by roadmen and followed by twelve drums and twelve gold drums.
Then came the procession of long-handled serrated sabers and behind them two rows of twenty-four imperial horses.
The flag of the Green Dragon, the god of the east, and of the White Tiger, the god of the west, swished apart to reveal two lieutenants leading two square formations of twenty-five cavalrymen, twenty of them lancers, four crossbow carriers, and one archer.
Following this was the procession of ministers and councilors from the Great Chancellery, the Great Secretariat, the Office of Supreme Affairs, and the Office of Overseers, all riding two by two.
Two generals headed up twelve divisions, totaling 1,536 men, arranged according to the color of their uniforms.
Two lieutenant-generals from the Imperial Guard commanding sixty soldiers from a division of reinforcements, two lieutenant-generals from the Cavalry in charge of fifty-six horsemen, and four lieutenants leading 102 foot soldiers made an impressive sight.
Then came the parade of the Jade route: the Jade carriage towed by thirty-two coachmen dressed in emerald green was accompanied by five more carriages, the General of One Thousand Bulls, and the two great generals of the Guard of the Left and the Right bearing imperial sabers; behind them were two imperial horses and two Gate Keepers holding long-handled sabers.
Then there were two soldiers bearing two banners of the Imperial Gate, escorted by four men on foot, all wearing tunics in imperial yellow. There were twenty-four sergeants from the regiments that guarded the Gates trotting between six rows of soldiers from the cavalry and reinforcements, and twelve rows from the regiments that guarded the Left and the Right.
Then followed long-handled fans made of feathers from venerated pheasants, borne by horsemen. Then the imperial litter with its eight bearers. Next there were four small fans, twelve fans of precious feathers, and two parasols covered in flowers. Four men marched ahead of the imperial vehicle which, having been designed for just such elaborate large-scale journeys, dripped with gold and precious stones and looked like a legendary reptile. It was made up of a sequence of platforms covered with giant palanquins and connected with hooks so that the whole train was articulated and flexible. It proudly displayed its two hundred coachmen in their black scarves, yellow tunics, mauve trousers, and purple belts and its countless horses harnessed in the most beautiful jewels in the Empire. As they reached the wide road covered in wet sand at the gates of the city, the reins were released: Every shaft and axle began to creak, and the train set off across the universe with a roar of thunder.