Chapter 13: Flower of the West (Angharad)
c/w: continued captivity & exhibitionism
(~***~)
The young Crown Prince Zhu Yijun [1] sat on the lower dais beneath his father the Emperor, uncomfortable in his stiff dress robes. He wished he did not have to be at this event. When his father had become Emperor, the Prince had really hoped that something would change. His grandfather had been terrifying, for he believed that fear was the only way to successfully govern such a vast, complex nation as their Middle Kingdom. [2] The result was a country in disarray.
The Prince's father had talked about many reforms and was indeed trying to implement some of them. But his initial rosy visions had proved hard to put into practice, and now he had resorted to the old Emperor's tactics of sowing fear to keep the ruling class in line. What good was it to start re-opening foreign trade and replacing corrupt officials if the palace was still silent because everyone feared to breathe? And now, just three years after making his lofty promises, his father was indulging in sensual pleasures and shameless power plays, the Prince thought with frustration.
He couldn't remember how old he was when he looked around the menagerie for the first time and realized that it was actually a prison. Before that it had been a place where he had played for years – a beautiful and peaceful site of many happy memories. When he eventually expressed his distress, his mother and minders told him that he thought much too much for a child and brushed it off. His grandfather and now his father insisted that it was a humane place for rare creatures, now out of place in a world dominated by mankind, to live out their lives in beauty and plenty. Each was given what was appropriate to the nature of their kind and all their needs were provided for. The garden itself could well be one of the wonders of age – and they got to live in it, all the time! What could anyone object to?
But the Prince could not stop seeing the chains and collars they wore and thinking, I imagine they object to it anyway. So many of them wore human faces, he could not understand how no one with any power seemed to be able to see them. Never mind that in recent years it had begun to be used as a display of the Emperor's wealth and power for all the nobles and any foreign emissaries to see. There was some special excitement over one of the newest 'residents' he understood. Something especially rare and exquisite, or so they said.
Below him their court sat in polite rows, their rainbow of silk robes and gowns, their silver and gold hair ornaments, all fluttering in the breeze until they looked like a field of flowers. A field of flowers who knew all too well the meaning of the phrase 'tall poppies get snipped'. They might as well have worn masks, he thought as he looked out over their carefully smiling faces.
A gong sounded and everyone rose as the Emperor entered the pavilion and took his seat. Yujin looked up at his father, but the Emperor did not even glance at him. One of the court heralds read out a speech about the compassionate nature of the menagerie for the lost peoples of the world, how magnanimous the emperor was to provide for their care and keeping despite its expense, and a number of other flattering statements that the Prince stopped paying attention to after a while.
Soon the Emperor's entertainment spectacular began. The first act was all human concubines and acrobats, performing skits about celestial beings, spirits, and demons who had all lived among humans at one time or another. Every whirling sleeve, tumble, and leap was perfection. His father had spared nothing to show his audience that he had the very best of his realm at his command.
Next the residents of the menagerie were called out to show their talents to the captive audience. Two jinnalaluo started things out, their celestial music flowing out from instruments held in human hands that moved nimbly beneath their bearded bird faces. A witch in a dramatic red gown displayed feats of illusion. Four demons they had not seen before graced the stage – the green snake's coils undulating sinuously even as she twirled her long sleeves in time with the white fox ladies that minced about her.
Finally, to the sound of another clap of the gong, the herald announced that the one the called Anhe: the flower of the West would present a dance and a song before the assembled nobles would proceed to the feast that was to follow the performances. The herald told a tale the Prince had never heard before, of people called elves that were powerful spirits of the Western world. The peoples of the West now said that the elves had gone beyond the mortal world, never to return, but one orphan had miraculously appeared here in the Middle Kingdom. The Emperor in his kindness had agreed to provide for her care for all her long years.
The Prince was paying attention now, curious to see this rare person from the West. Even Western humans he had seen little of, so he was curious. However, his disquiet about this entire display only grew when she walked out onto the stage. The elf looked even younger than he, he thought. She was looking down a bit nervously, then seemed to gather herself inward as the music started.
She began a fan dance that looked effortless, though it included several feats that were unusual for one so young. The Prince was relieved, at least, that they had taught her a little girl's dance, not something for a courtesan. In her delicate pink gown, white fans flashing past her strange gold hair, she really did look like some angelic spirit gracing them from the heavenly realm, he thought. When she finished dancing, a musician joined her on the stage and she sang a sweet song about a child's love for her parents that she sang without enough expression, though her voice had a lovely tone.
When she left the stage, the palace eunuchs began shepherding the assembled nobles to the dining area. The Prince remained on the dais – he and the royal family would be the last to leave. As he waited, he watched the elf girl for as long as he could. He had seen her let out a hard breath when she was finally off the stage, where a young dwarf (these, the Prince knew – his father had indentured many for craftwork,) patted her awkwardly on the back. The green snake woman sneered and said something quietly to the girl, who shot back a dark look.
Yijun could not shake the feeling that there was something especially wrong about holding these children in the garden and making the girl perform for an audience. For the entire feast that followed he found he had no appetite even for his favorite foods. All around him the courtiers were making polite conversation about the topics they knew his father wished them to discuss, including the elf girl. The Prince began working himself up to try something that he rarely dared to do. He had determined that he wanted to confront his father.
(~***~)
All the way over to the central pavilion, Angharad was stewing over her upcoming performance. She was confident she knew the dance and all three songs. But she felt nervous with the idea of all these strange human eyes on her. The dress she was wearing was different from the clothes she had practiced in. There were a few leaps she was unsure about. She did not want to trip on her hem, embarrassing herself and upsetting the hateful man that held so much power over them.
The children's brave translator noticed the girl's disquiet. Looking around and seeing only Eastron-speaking servants about, he dared a quiet conversation with her. He wished they had been able to warn her about the performance, but as with many things around the palace, they had not been told until they 'needed to know', which in this case was last night.
"Anhe, I am sure that you will do very well. There is no need to worry. I have been at all your lessons. You are a good dancer and singer. It will be over before you know it," He tried encouraging the youngster.
Angharad had grown to trust this man. She knew he risked punishment over and over when he spoke to them more than he was instructed to, and yet he had done so repeatedly to ensure that the children were well cared for and as happy as they could be.
"I've only ever performed in front of my family," she whispered back, revealing the source of her nerves.
"And who would watch you? Your mother and father? Wouldn't they be proud of what you've learned?" the man asked her.
"And my grandfather," the girl said wistfully. "I always show him everything I do."
"Then pretend they're the only ones watching," the adult advised her. "Do not look at the courtiers. Just pretend you're at home, showing your mother and father and grandfather your pretty fan dance. Wouldn't they like it?"
Angharad gave the man a small smile and nodded.
"Remember to keep your public face on, like we talked about," the translator reminded her.
Angharad nodded again, taking a deep breath and purposefully straightening out her face, like the man had taught her. As still as a lake without wind, she thought.
She waited in the wings of the stage behind silk screens along with others who were supposed to perform. She admired the work of the human dancers and musicians who went first, engrossed in their art – but not quite losing her edginess. The singing bird people nearly had her in tears their song was so beautiful.
As the witch and then the demons took the stage, her teacher instructed her on what she was expected to do. Dance first, then sing one of the three song she had memorized. And without further ado, she was herded up the stairs onto the little stage facing the Emperor's dais and the rows of seated nobles in their finery.
Angharad did as the translator had suggested. She looked down and gathered herself, putting her 'public' face on. Then she imagined that all of this was gone. That she was in one of the dining rooms in the Silvan Quarter, showing off her new skill to her parents and grandparents. She could imagine her mother's grinning face, full of affection for her. Her ada would probably be more subtle, she thought – he had this little secret smile that said everything she needed to know. And Thranduil, well he would be lounging in one of the chairs with her grandmother close by, his face fond and his attention focused on Angharad's performance. She knew he would have complements for her afterward – this was the kind of dance the elves would be able to appreciate.
With the ghost of her family's support giving her energy, Angharad nodded to the musicians and they began their music. Her teacher had made her practice this dance so many times it came to her effortlessly. She focused on music cues and the swirling fans instead of on the people watching her. By the time she was done, being in the flow of all that movement had calmed her down considerably. She let the momentum of her dance carry her through the song. She could only understand some of the words, but she knew it was something about your parents. She imagined she was singing to them, showing off the new language she was learning. And then it was over.
Angharad curtsied and left the stage to rejoin Ginnar and Xiaoqing.
Ginnar gave her a pat on the back. "It is not really what dwarfs care for, but I think it was good for what it was," he said awkwardly to Angharad. She was torn between feeling grateful for his attempt to support her and prickling at the pity she thought she was feeling from him.
"I especially enjoyed that speech about the Emperor's great compassion in taking you, a poor orphan, into his care," Xiaoqing sneered not so much at her but for her benefit. The look Angharad shot her was one of pure mutiny. If her grandfather could see this – an elf being paraded around like a prize horse. She was pretty sure the Emperor would meet a bloody end on one of the swords Thranduil kept in his private rooms.
There was some hushed discussion among the servants and teachers that accompanied them before the translator returned to the children and explained with both trepidation and amazement,
"When the feast is over you're to have an audience with the royal family. I beg you, be polite and say as little as possible. The Emperor has been in a foul mood lately," the translator warned them.
The children and the demons were herded away before they could think about it too much.
(~***~)
The Emperor felt uneasy as he sat on his throne. It had gone well, but he felt it could have gone even better. When the Collector had told the Emperor about the potential acquisition, he had (likely purposefully) underplayed how childlike she looked. The fan dance had been sweet and skillful. Her voice was good, and the song angelic. The speech about his generosity for bringing her in actually sounded a little better for her age. But the Emperor had been picturing at least an adolescent, and the disparity between expectation and reality nagged at him.
As he did over and over again these days, he felt control of the situation slipping out of his hands. Frustration welled up in his chest, covering over a buzzing tremor of anxiety. The Emperor kept his face neutral and made himself sit tall and still. In this snake pit they called a royal court he could not afford to let any chink in his armor show.
His family filtered into the throne room, each taking their proper place with a sobriety that fit their station. To the Emperor's surprise (and he did not enjoy surprises anymore), the Crown Prince stopped before his throne. The Prince bowed low to his father and, in an appropriately deferent tone, said,
"Honored father, I humbly request an audience to discuss the menagerie residents, when it pleases your Imperial Majesty."
The Emperor found this irritating. He had no doubt that his son was planning to object to the practice of keeping non-humans captive, as he had already done repeatedly, and publicly. However polished this request, the Emperor saw it as tantamount to an outright challenge in front of the royal family and the servants attending them. They would all know what this was about.
Curtly, the Emperor said simply, "The Crown Prince is dismissed." Prince Yujin bowed again and took his seat in silence. To an outsider, he would look the picture of graceful submission. To his family, the subtle, tight way he held his jaw was a clear illustration of his defiance.
The servants who had been tasked with preparing the elf and her dwarf companion, as well as the new demons, ushered their charges in for the requested audience with the Emperor. The servants and demons bowed properly. The dwarf child mimicked the older dwarf beside him, resulting in an adequate bow. The elf looked a little confused and made a strange gesture, bending her knees so that she dipped as low as the rest had, although her head remained high. The Emperor was unhappy that she had not been shown how to bow. He was unable to interpret whether her gesture was sufficiently respectful.
The translator that had largely taken over the coordination of the two youngest residents stepped forward and began presenting his wards. Xiaoqing and the fox ladies bowed elaborately, but their eyes held the hard glint of their kind. No one was under any illusion that, if given the chance, they would enact vengeance on their captors. Everyone was familiar with the mayhem demons caused when they were left free. Even the Prince had no qualms about keeping demons trapped in the garden. It was a kinder fate than locking them up in Lei Fang tower, anyway.
The dwarfs were pushed forward next. The older dwarf gave a report on his pupil's progress in the art of jade carving. A eunuch passed the young dwarf's samples to the Emperor who looked them over. He thought they left much to be desired. But he was interested to see what kind of artisan the young dwarf could become when trained from such a young age in their preferred stones and styles: the older dwarfs caught on well enough, but perhaps one trained from youth would become a true adept in the Eastern stone working methods. The Emperor gave the translator a nod of approval and the dwarfs were ushered to the side.
Finally, the translator and the dance and music instructor stepped forward with the elf.
"I present to your Imperial Majesty, Anhe, the flower of the West. The only elf remaining outside of the celestial realms and the jewel of the Imperial Menagerie," the translator said.
The Emperor gestured that she should be brought closer to him. The youngling at least had the sense to keep her features smooth and look at the ground as he inspected her. The Emperor thought she looked strange, as most Western people did. Her hair looked like strands of undyed silk. Her eyes were a disconcerting, luminous green color. Like looking into an algae-clogged pond, he thought. The Emperor took her chin in his hand and moved her head to the side to inspect the infamous ears. She stiffened at his touch, but otherwise did not resist. He was pleased that she at least understood her place here, even if she needed better training in the art of keeping her emotions to herself.
"Who are you among the elves? Why have you left the celestial realm your people were banished to?" the Emperor finally asked the child.
The girl spoke to the translator, who explained, "She says that there was an accident and she fell from the heaven she calls Valinor, your Imperial Majesty."
The girl said something insistent in the Westron tongue. (Angharad was getting good enough at Eastron to know that the translator had left out her other comment, which upset her.)
The Emperor gave the translator a hard look, but before he could acquiesce, the snake demon chimed in.
"She says she is the granddaughter of the king of elves, your Imperial Majesty. She expects her parents and perhaps her grandfather himself will leave their heaven to seek her return," Xiaoqing simpered. Unlike the translator, who was concerned that this information may not work to the girl's advantage, the demon was simply delighted by a chance to kick up drama. She couldn't help it: it was what she was.
The Emperor considered this information carefully. His ability to keep the child of a celestial ruler captive would make him look powerful indeed. His nobles would see that no claim to royalty or divinity could save them from his will. But – if such beings did appear to claim the child, he would need to think carefully about how he would handle it. He decided to split the difference while he contemplated this outcome.
"Then we are pleased to offer refuge to the elf Princess here while she awaits her family. She shall be given all due honor in her new home in the garden of divinity, where we shall keep her safe from the troubles of the world" the Emperor proclaimed.
The Prince Yujin could not contain himself any longer. He was outraged that the child of another sovereign would be held prisoner in the menagerie, no matter what 'honors' she was given. A surge of courage rose in his heart. He stood from his seat beside his father. He was the heir to this kingdom, wasn't he? Why shouldn't he speak on matters of its management and honor?
"Imperial Majesty, I humbly request your consideration that this Middle Kingdom should seek out the family of our honorable guest the Princess Anhe, as we would hope they would seek out this royal family should a child of ours come into their care. In addition, it is the respectful opinion of this Prince that our royal guest should be given accommodation in our palace and released from her restraints," the Prince said in a strong voice. He followed his speech with a bow of supplication, but the damage was done. No one in the room dared to breathe. The Crown Prince's mother felt her heart racing with fear for her son.
(~***~)
Footnotes:
[1] This is the name of an actual prince who became the emperor of China in 1572, succeeding his father at a young age. In this chapter and in all other chapters, when I include characters based on historical figures I will say they are very loosely based on those actual people. For example, the character in this story is older than the actual Wanli Emperor was when he ascended the throne – so I've tweaked the timeline for my own narrative purposes.
In this storyline only I will use the actual historical names – simply because I do not have the knowledge to choose appropriate Chinese names. The use of these names is meant respectfully. Nothing I say about these characters or what is happening in this proto-China country is meant to be an accurate depiction of history, nor a commentary on anything that happened.
[2] From research I understand that this is an English approximation of the title that China used to refer to itself at this time in history. Interesting that 'Middle Earth" and "Middle Kingdom" both kind of assume that each of their regions are the center of attention, or should be.
