Chapter Six: The Empress Mother

Emilian knelt beside MeiLan while she lit incense and placed their gift-offerings on the altar before the tablets. She had bought flowers and a bowl of oranges, which she added to the other gifts that crowded around the tablets. Placing her palms together and closing her eyes, she seemed to meditate for a moment before she spoke, "Blessings to you, your highness. I hope that you have happiness and peace in the afterlife. If you can, watch over the Emperor and the Empress, they must miss you terribly, and keep our country peaceful and prosperous. Enjoy all the fruits, the paper money, and the sweet incense." She bowed down, pressing her forehead to the ground before she rose up. When she struggled to get to her feet, Emilian jumped to assist her. She accepted his hand and leaned on him briefly until she had found her strength and her balance.

Emilian didn't know what to pray for the prince, so he said nothing. Just as they turned from the altar, there was a commotion at the gate, news that the empress had arrived spreading quickly through the crowds. People fell back, clearing the way from the gate to the ruins. The empress's bodyguards came first, followed by the eunuchs, and finally, the great mother herself. She looked as majestic and impressive as ever. Her white gown was intricately embroidered with real gold thread. Heavy gold jewelry graced her neck, her wrists and she had rings on every finger. Her hair was ornately styled and crowned with a gold headpiece that sat over her head, with pendants dangling and dancing with her every movement. She walked slowly and gracefully; her hands tucked at her waist, the very picture of the goddess to whom she was representative. She was followed by her maids and her ladies-in-waiting. 

Everyone bowed down. Emilian felt sorry for MeiLan, knowing that it pained her legs, and she had great difficulty getting up and down from that position, but it was the empress, and no one would dare show disrespect by remaining upright. Emilian, however, peeked his head up so he could watch the beautiful and fascinating ruler make her way to the shrine of her second son. The empress seemed to be oblivious to crowd and had eyes only for the tablet bearing the second prince's name.

She stood and stared at the altar for a long time, and Emilian came to realize that she was shedding tears when her perfect make up began to run down her cheeks in dark rivulets. Slowly she knelt down. Making a motion with her hand, eunuchs with baskets came to her, placing them before her with a bow. "My son…" her voice was low and mournful, and only those that were very close to her could hear the private conversation she was having with the second prince. "Why did you have to go and leave us? You've left a wound in my heart that has never healed! There is no day that I sleep without remembering you, my beautiful boy. How I miss your bright, eager mind, and your soft heart. How did fate cheat us by taking you too soon!"

Emilian felt like he should cover his ears. The raw pain in the empress's voice made his throat feel thick. How great was a mother's love that after fifteen years she still cried for her son? Sometimes it seemed to Emilian like the emperor and the empress were not real people, they were too important, too rich, too powerful to be relatable, but as she spoke, he saw that the empress was as vulnerable as any other human. Her heart hurt as much as any mother's would, and Emilian's chest squeezed in sympathy. In that moment he would have given anything to comfort the woman. If he could have died in her son's place, he would have laid down his own life, just to stop her tears.

He knew, as everyone knew, that the first prince had also died in an unfortunate accident a few years ago, leaving the third prince as the lone heir to the throne. The third prince was known to be a spoiled and selfish boy, unworthy of the honor. 

It was tragic for a mother to lose two good sons and be left with the one who was a lout. After a long time, the empress rose to her feet, and with a gesture, she gave the rest of the crowd permission to rise as well. After being on her knees for such a long time, MeiLan could not get up herself. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she struggled. Emilian stooped and picked her up gently. She gave him a small, grateful smile and wiped the sweat away from her brow with her sleeve. 

The empress, having accomplished what she came for, turned, and walked with her entourage toward the main building of the monastery, which still stood intact, untouched by the flames of misfortune that had taken the second prince and so many others. MeiLan presumed that the Empress was heading to meet with the grand master. She waited until the monarch had left the plaza before turning to Emilian. "Let's take a walk around before we head back. I may not get the chance to return for a long time and I would like to see the grounds." 

He walked closely beside her, his arm hovering protectively every time she seemed to wobble or lean too heavily on her stick. He vowed in his mind that he would never let her fall down. He had a duty to watch over her. They wandered through the beautiful gardens and the orchards, and by fate or by fortune, they found her aunt and her cousin's also walking in the gardens.

"MeiLan! You came! But how?" her aunt said, both happy and perplexed.

MeiLan smiled calmly. "Aunt, you know I am a horsewoman. I don't need a carriage."

Her aunt's mouth sagged open. "You rode all this distance? Alone?"

"Not alone," she gestured to Emilian, "My servant has traveled with me." 

Standing slightly behind her mother, Minerva made a sour face.

Luen surveyed Emilian. MeiLan had informed her days ago that she had acquired a new servant, the same young man who had rescued the girls from a disaster at the Peach Festival. She had been meaning to go and greet the boy and offer him her gratitude for his courageous actions, but the affairs of home and society had distracted her, and she'd completely forgotten. Now that she saw the young man, she was pleased. He appeared appropriately dignified for the task MeiLan had given him in escorting her there, and respectful too, bowing before her politely. There was something about him that put her at ease, and she felt that her niece would be safe with the young man as her sole protector. 

"It's good that we have met," Mrs. Yongli said, "Lady Tan has invited us for dinner at her mansion, and we will spend the night there. Please join us."

"Thank you, Aunt, and please pass my thanks to Lady Tan," MeiLan said graciously, "But my servants will worry if we do not return this evening." She made the excuse, but Emilian wondered if the truth was that she was simply too tired to extend the journey. Mrs. Yongli accepted her explanation without argument, perhaps she too understood that MeiLan's condition was too exhausting. 

As they moved on, Emilian enjoyed walking through the garden paths but was again plagued by an uneasy feeling of familiarity. He knew he would find a lotus pond just there, and that there was a stone bench under an old wisteria here, and that there were four Buddha statues in the center of the garden, arranged at the four points of the compass, all facing each other, faces composed in peaceful contemplation. But how he knew, and why it was all familiar was a mystery that made his head ache. Perhaps this had been his particular place of worship? 

MeiLan sat on the circular bench in the center of the garden, facing the northern Buddha. Emilian stood beside her in polite silence. Other people who had come for the memorial moved around the paths, interrupting the peace and solitude of the space. MeiLan stirred and looked up at Emilian. "I'm ready," she said quietly. "Let's go home." 

They left the monastery in the same fashion in which they had left Yongli mansion, with Emilian walking beside the horse. When they had left the busy road to the monastery behind, she again offered her arm. This time, Emilian didn't hesitate. He swung up on the horse behind her, and allowed his arms to circle her waist, and his chest to press against her back. They rode together in comfortable silence for a long time. 

"Look," exclaimed MeiLan, pointing to where a cluster of buildings surrounded a fork in the road, "there is a restaurant ahead. Are you hungry?" She didn't wait for an answer but reined her black horse toward the small restaurant and inn, which catered to travelers at the junction to the routes through the forest. It was a modest establishment, with hand hewn tables and chairs arranged on a bamboo veranda in the open air. The red-faced host greeted them and brought them to a table. 

"Miss, would you like tea?" 

"Yes please," she smiled at the man. "Also bring us some tasty dishes, vegetables and chicken, please." 

The man nodded, not needing any more direction, and left the table to bring the order to the kitchen. 

Emilian sat awkwardly. He had never been inside a restaurant as a proper guest, at least not that he could recall. He felt some unease, as he was uncertain if a servant should dine with his master in public, and if a man and a woman should eat together so casually. MeiLan was perfectly at ease though. When the waiter brought the pot of tea and two small cups, she poured for them both, taking on the task her personal maid would usually perform with perfunctory calm, and then relaxed, taking her cup in both hands and sipping at it with easy contentment. He picked up his own cup and drank while his eyes roamed around, studying a few other guests who were all eating and talking and minding their own business. They all seemed to be business people of some sort, proudly wearing the mark of their trade upon their gowns or suits and showing their status in the bright colors of their robes. Some had traveled with their own servants, who now hovered behind their masters, ready to serve the food or pour the wine. Emilian squirmed in his seat, wishing he'd had the foresight to pour for MeiLan. 

Some ruckus near the kitchen caught his attention, and he set his cup down carefully.

"Please sir, just some scraps, I'm so hungry!" An old man in a tattered robe, his back stooped, was pleading with the host who had recently seated the guests.

"Get lost, old man, you will scare away the customers!"

"But my lord, I'm begging for charity," the old man bowed low. Instead of charity, the host pulled back his foot and kicked the beggar in the ribs, sending the elderly gentleman sprawling across the floor.

Emilian moved without conscious thought, jumping over the railing that separated the dining area from the kitchen, and placing himself between the old man and the owner of the establishment. "Ah, sorry sir, we have disturbed you," the owner of the building glared around Emilian. "Don't mind this old fool. Please sit down and enjoy your tea, we will take care of this."

Emilian did not budge. He did not know what to do or what to say, but he found that he could not allow the business owner to beat or abuse the old man. Perhaps it was because he himself had so recently been on the streets and hungry, and he was moved by empathy. However, he was just a servant with no authority. He looked back at the table, realizing belatedly that he might be misbehaving in front of his master. The table however was empty. MeiLan appeared on the other side of him, leaning on her staff. Their eyes met, and he saw an understanding flash there.

"There is no need, sir," she said, in that soft way that did not leave any room for argument. "This gentleman will be joining us at our table. As our guest."