Sable and Jade
My stomach was alive with butterflies and my body tense standing before the curtain listening to the sounds of feasting beyond. The scents of all manner of delicacy from around the realm drifted lightly on the breeze to where I stood; the savory scent of duck mingling with sweet hints of fruits and berries, the rich smell of the sea emanating from multiple dishes of fish and squid, all of it underscored with a heady cloud of sour wine. The combination did little to calm the turbulence in my midsection.
Beyond the curtain my master, Wang Yun made small talk with the Imperial Rector, “Since I was a youth,” he said amiably, “I have had some small interest in the movements of heaven. I have read that the days of the Han grow few and that you, Prime Minister, might soon ascend. The Mandate of Heaven has passed in your favor and it seems the realm resounds with praise for your lofty deeds.”
A hearty chuckle followed and a deep voice, thick with feigned modesty, replied, “How dare I expect such . . . adulation while the Emperor still sits the throne, whole and hale?”
I tried not to listen. My master’s farcical praise should not have been so easily received, even in jest. It was treason against the throne to even speak such. It made my stomach churn all the more fiercely. I took a deep breath attempting to calm myself; I hadn’t felt so sick the first time when Lord Lu Bu had come to visit, nor before that when my master had placed his plan before me.
It had been many nights in a row that my master, the Minister of the Interior, returned from the Imperial Court distraught and anxious. He would stand for long hours in the palace garden staring up at the stars in silence, neither eating nor drinking. I would watch, distressed, from the small pavilion across the courtyard reminiscing on the kindness he had showed me. When I was young I had lost my family to circumstance I couldn’t understand at the time. Master Wang Yun had taken me into his palace, taught me to sing and dance, and raised me as his own daughter. It pained me to see him in such a state and I, too, found myself fidgeting and pensive.
I must have made some noise because turned and saw me watching, the bright moonlight glistened on his tear-streaked face. He was a man of middle age, but in this light, in this state, he looked twice his age. His receding hair pulled tightly away from his lined face, his gray beard blowing lightly in the breeze. He cleared his throat and called out to me, “Diao Chan, what mischief brings you from your room at this late hour?”
I knelt before him as he approached. “No mischief, lord.” I lowered my eyes and stared at the gravel beneath me.
“Well, then?”
“May thy handmaid speak from her heart, lord?” I asked, raising my eyes tentatively. He nodded. “M’lord, at your hand thy handmaid has been the recipient of bountiful kindnesses, far more than she’s deserved. Should her body be torn to pieces by tigers for m’lord’s sake it should not repay this debt in a thousandth part. Yet, lately, she has seen m’lord return from court shaken and distressed and she knows it is because of state troubles. She has been afraid to ask. This evening, though, m’lord seems especially aggrieved and it makes her ill with worry. She wishes she could be of some aid and would not shrink even from death to bring peace to m’lord’s heart.”
He stood for some moments in silence and I lowered my eyes once more to examine the ground, waiting. Suddenly his hand was on my shoulder, “Child,” he spoke gently, his voice suddenly calm, “who would thought the fate of the Han Dynasty might rest in your hands. Rise, come inside.”
I stood and followed him into the palace. Inside he bade me sit in the guest’s seat of honor and knelt before me. My heart lurched to see him on his knees before me and suddenly his eyes were once more full of tears. Fear crept up on me. “M’lord? Thy handmaid does not understand.”
“The realm, all of China, is on the brink of destruction. The rebel Dong Zhou has raised himself to the seat of Prime Minister, he holds the child Emperor in thrall and harbors hope to depose him and none of us, the Imperial Ministers can find means to destroy this man.” He began to weep and went on to tell me tales of Dong Zhou’s cruelty and ghastly acts.
He spoke of one feast where a group of rebels, who had surrendered themselves, were brought to the palace to plead for pardon. Prime Minister Dong Zhou had each of them mutilated there at the feast; some lost hands, other feet or eyes, one was flayed alive his skin peeled and boiled in a broth before being fed back to him while he bled. All the while Dong Zhou continued to laugh and jest, making small talk and eating with no regard for the tortures playing out before him.
“Look at you, my dear daughter,” he began, “look how beautiful you have grown.”
I was twelve when I came into Lord Wang Yun’s care and now grown to twenty-one. I felt my face flush at the compliment.
“The reason Minister Zhou remains out of our reach is on account of his adopted son; the warrior Lu Bu. He is the fiercest warrior in the realm and is always at the Prime Minister’s side. I am ashamed for myself and the other ministers, for we are old men, and afraid of Lu Bu. To attempt to move against Dong Zhou is futility and we would surely be killed.” He pounded his fist against the floor and grinded his teeth. “You, though, Diao Chan, my beautiful flower. You could save the realm.”
He related to me his plan then and I listened, my jaw set with determination, trying not to betray my fear at what he asked of me. When he was finished he asked, “This is a chance to rid the world of a great evil; will you do it?”
“Thy handmaid has promised that even death would not be gratitude enough for the kindness m’lord has shown. She will do this thing.” I choked the last sentence.
“You must tell no one of our scheme.” He warned, “Not a word beyond this room or we may both be killed.”
I nodded my acquiescence.
“Thank you, my daughter.” He raised my hands to his tear-streaked face and kissed them gently, his lips quivering.
A few days later my master presented valuable gifts to Lord Lu Bu and invited him into his home. When he came the two of them enjoyed a fine meal and much wine speaking as friends. I could hear them through the thin walls as master Yun’s attendants painted my face and made me presentable.
“What have I,” spoke Lu Bu, “a common officer done to earn a meal such as this in the home of a minister as exalted as yourself?”
“You humble yourself, m’lord,” My master replied, “In all the realm there is no hero your equal. Allow me to pay tribute to your abilities if not your rank.”
The two of them laughed and called for more wine. They continued to drink and talk for some time and when Lu Bu was mellow on wine my master called to me, “Bring her in!” He called.
Two housemaids escorted me through the curtain into the room where my master sat across a table from a large muscular man. My head was down toward the floor but I tried to take his measure from the top of my vision. His face was a collection of sharp angles and, sun browned and tight against the bone. Strong hands lifted bits of food to his mouth and his jaw flexed as he chewed. His chest and shoulders were broad and powerful beneath a shirt of purple silk embroidered with golden dragons and accented with jade buttons carved to resemble lions’ heads. His eyes were keen and sharp, like his features, and they followed me as I moved slowly into the room.
“Who is this?” Lu Bu asked, his voice suddenly sober.
“M’lord, this is my daughter, the maid Diao Chan.” I bowed my most elegant bow. “We have become such close friends this evening, I thought you might wish to meet her.”
At my master’s bidding I presented Lu Bu with a goblet of wine, his fingers brushing against mine as I passed him the cup. His eyes never left me, climbing up and down my body once and again and again. His tight jaw hung slack on his face now and he appeared almost comical. I stifled the laugh and maintained my most determined poise. I met his eyes and he smiled. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, when he smiled it was as though his whole face transformed. It became softer, kinder, and less severe; he was not an unattractive man.
Lord Lu Bu bade me sit and I withdrew reluctantly. I felt drawn to him though to appear too forward would have been indecent. My master echoed his desires and, with a bow, I took a seat at master Wang Yun’s side. Lu Bu continued to watch me across the table while he drank several more cups of wine. I remained silent, but couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze a multitude of times. There was desire in his eyes, and it made me flush; I thanked the foresight of wearing a veil.
“I see my dear daughter pleased you, m’lord.” My master spoke.
Lu Bu nodded, intoxication evident in the motion.
“If that is so, I should like to present her to you as a handmaiden to your house.”
“M’lord!” Lu Bu stood drunkenly, swaying slightly as he bowed, “I should be most thankful for such and offer. I accept with the utmost gratitude.”
“Well, then,” my master sounded much less drunk than he should have by this time, “we shall pick a propitious day and I will have her sent to you. Now, though, lord Lu Bu, it grows late.” My master stood to show his guest out, “You should be getting back to the palace. The Prime Minister will be wondering where you’ve been.”
Lu Bu thanked him graciously, and with one final glance at me, he departed. When my master returned I spoke, “He is quite handsome m’lord, is what you spoke of heroics true?”
Wang Yun signaled for servants to clear the meal, “What I have said is true. Lord Lu Bu is a great champion, perhaps the greatest.” He turned on me sternly, “Do not let his deeds deceive you; Lu Bu is a beast, a pet to the monster Dong Zhou. That is enough for this evening. You are dismissed.”
I returned to my chambers that night and was surprised to dream pleasant dreams of lord Lu Bu. Dreams of valor, and chivalry, and I could see myself by his side. He was large, to be sure, but he did not seem so beastly; not when he smiled.
Many days passed, and one day my master arrived home howling orders to prepare the festival hall, a great feast was to be laid, decorative curtains were hung and embroidered carpets laid about the seat of honor. Prime Minister Dong Zhou would be joining us this night.
I stood behind my curtain listening to the two men talk. When I was to meet Lu Bu there had been a quickening of the pulse, a certain excitement and a rush of energy I had struggled to contain. But now I only felt ill. Lu Bu was a great hero, strong and valiant. Dong Zhou was a tyrant, and torturer; I feared to meet him.
I heard the musicians begin to play, their shrill reed pipes announcing my entrance. I took a breath and tried to appear demure as I passed through the curtain. Dong Zhou, the Prime Minister, was the opposite of Lu Bu. Where Lu Bu’s face had been strong and angular, Dong Zhou was round and jowly. A bristling black beard depended from his chins glistening with grease and spilt wine. Where Lu Bu had been broad across the shoulders and chest, the Prime Minister was broad across the gut and waist. He was bedecked in all the fineries or his court garb but it was stained and ill fitting.
I did as I was bid, and to the sound of the musicians I danced and sensuous dance. I swallowed my fears and lost myself in the movements, distracting myself from his lingering gazes. There was hunger in his eyes and it was clear this man’s appetite for women was not dissimilar to his appetite for food. He licked grease from his fingers with his thick tongue and continued to clean a pig’s bone of meat while he watched me dance.
When the dance was done my master bade me sit by his side. Dong Zhou followed me to the table with his whole head, gaping stupidly in my direction. He smiled when he caught my eye and his face twisted into a visage of insidious intentions. “Who is she?” He asked, more a demand than a question.
“A singing girl,” my master replied, “Diao Chan is her name.”
“So she sings as well.” He smiled that smile again.
My master nodded and I stood once more and sang. It was a sad song, an old song I had learned long ago and loved very much. Dong Zhou listened with his eyes and praised me warmly when I had finished. He asked my age.
“Thy unworthy handmaiden is sixteen.” I replied, so quietly I was surprised he had heard me.
“A perfect fairy!” He declared loudly. His sudden burst of energy startled me, and Master Yun.
“If she pleases you so I would like to offer you this little maid.” Wang Yun said, “She should most fortunate if she could be your servant.”
“I should be most gracious.” The Prime Minister replied. Without further discussion he summoned a guard from outside and had me escorted to a covered carriage parked before the Master Yun’s palace. I climbed inside silently and found I was not alone. Inside we’re cushions of delicate silk stuffed with goose-down, velvety soft curtains draped the windows and two other women lounged silently within. They appeared relieved to see me, though they said nothing.
The carriage took us to the Imperial Palace without Dong Zhou. He remained at my master’s home drinking well into the night. The other women, concubines from what I understood, showed me to where we would sleep. Our quarters were one great bed, large enough for half a dozen people or more. The center was sunken in a great depression and all along the wall I recognized the various accoutrements of a man’s bedchamber.
I tried not to let the horror show on my face when the realization struck me, but the other women seemed to see it (or at least understand from experience) because they both looked at me with such sympathy. The pair of them crawled onto the great bed and took up resting positions, as though they intended to sleep as long as they could before the Prime Minister returned. I followed suit, but my mind raced and sleep would not come.
It was late in the night when Dong Zhou appeared in the bedchamber. His eyes were red and weepy, his face flushed and he stumbled and fell trying to remove his boots. Crawling back to his feet I saw him single me out through his surely blurry eyes. He smiled that wicked smile and took a step toward me. I smiled back, fear and bile lingering at the back of my throat. I positioned myself seductively and breathed a sigh of relief when his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell face first onto the mattress.
I finally found sleep that night to the music of his snoring.
The next day, at court I overheard Lord Lu Bu and the Prime Minister talking. I halfway looked through the curtain and stole a glance at Lu Bu. He stood fully armored except for his great pheasant feathered war-helm. He looked quite dashing, in his bronze armor embossed with elaborate designs of dragons and tigers. In his hand, with the butt end on the ground, he held a weapon the likes of which I’d never seen. It stood well taller than he did, the handle was wood inlayed with silver and gold fashioned to appear as a serpent coiled about the shaft, the head was a pair of crescent axe heads mounted opposite one another with a great spear-like point mounted between. This was the famed sky-piercing halberd I had heard about.
I lingered too long and Lu Bu caught my eye. I smiled shyly. Dong Zhou followed his henchman’s gaze and saw me. His eyes narrowed as I duck back behind the curtain.
That night was not so luxurious as the previous. Dong Zhou was a horribly fat man, his body smelled of sweat and feces and blood and wine. Never so much as when he was disrobed. The first week (when I was new) was the worst, Dong Zhou rarely leaving me alone long enough to eat, and I spent many of my days sleeping and bathing and weeping in private. I could not allow the Prime Minister to see how miserable I was.
I served him loyally, gratifying his whims and accommodating his various desires. I was coy when meant to be coy, happy when meant to be happy, submissive when meant to be submissive, and brave . . . always brave.
One morning, nearly a month later, I awakened to find Dong Zhou still soundly asleep and I was alone with him in his chambers. I made an effort to rearrange my previous night’s clothing and made myself presentable before the pounded silver mirror, and walked out onto the low balcony overlooking a garden pond in the courtyard.
It wasn’t so unlike Master Yun’s garden many of the same plants and a similar arrangement. I wondered if he’d had a hand in it. I missed Master Yun.
Across the yard I saw Lord Lu Bu peaking through a trellis in my direction. I adjusted my posture and made like I was to weep. It was easy and the tears came readily to my face. The fear and anxiety, the memories of what I’d sacrificed and what had been taken from me bubbling up through my eyes and onto my face as I put my head in my hands and allowed tears to drop into the pond below. Still he watched. For long minutes he watched and I wept.
Finally he disappeared from view and I went back inside. Seating myself at the edge of the bed pining silently. It hadn’t supposed to be this way. I was not to
want either of these men, but each day spent with Dong Zhou made me desire Lord Lu Bu that much more.
The curtain behind me parted and I turned gazing across the slumbering body of the Prime Minister. Just inside the curtain stood Lu Bu, dressed for courtly affairs. He looked longingly at me and I smiled as best I could, placing my hand across my heart. Then I looked at the sleeping fat man and grimaced and his eyes followed my gaze and he frowned. I felt the tears come to my eyes once more and Lu Bu lurched as if to move in my direction.
Dong Zhou suddenly stirred; his eyes opened slowly and saw Lu Bu, “My son? Have you come to inquire about my health?” He sat up, laboriously, paying me no notice. “I am well, too much wine . . .” He stopped talking and he and Lu Bu locked gazes. Dong Zhou turned and saw me sitting on the edge of the bed and clarity struck him. He whirled on Lord Lu Bu. “You dare makes eyes at my beauty!” He shouted for guards, for servants for anyone to take Lu Bu from his chambers, “Never let him enter here again!” He called.
I felt my heart sink as Lu Bu was escorted from the room, and then the Prime Minister turned his attention on me. My heart sank deeper still.
The following day, as I powdered my face to cover the bruises I heard voices again coming from the adjoining chamber. She peered again through the curtain.
“My son,” Dong Zhou said, “I reacted poorly yesterday, I was irritable and under the influence of too much wine. I want to make it up to you.” He snapped his fingers and servants appeared bearing all manner of gifts.
Lu Bu bowed graciously but his eyes, having caught me peering through, lingered on my own. Dong Zhou did not turn around to see me, he simply spoke softly, “No, that you shall not have.” Lu Bu’s shoulder’s sunk but again he thanked his adoptive father for the gifts.
“Come,” the Prime Minister spoke, “I’ve an audience with the Emperor, and I want you to escort me.” Dong Zhou rose and waddled his fat man waddle toward outside. Lu Bu turned and followed wordlessly.
I returned to the private apartment and occupied myself in gazing into the pond. Some time passed before Lu Bu returned, alone. He came in through the front entry, his halberd in hand. He set the weapon aside and crossed the room in a few purposeful strides. He took me in his arms and held me there, placing his lips on my forehead. He smelled of sweet perfumes and leather, and smoke and I buried my face in the silk of his tunic. I allowed him to hold me for long moments, listening to his heart beating against his chest, feeling mine beat in answer. Finally, I pushed him away and he took a step back without resistance.
Lu Bu stood before me, wordlessly. Tears fell from my eyes and I spoke, “Wang Yun is not my true father, though he treated me as his own child.” He nodded, “The heart’s desire was fulfilled when he promised me to you. But the Prime Minister, your father, he came under pretense of bringing me to you . . . as a gift,” I lied, “but he had no such intention.”
I moved to the railing, and he stepped toward me, “No! Stand back. Dong Zhou will never give me to you, we cannot be. I had to tell you the truth but could never speak with you; so I lived on, enduring my shame, and the pain, and the dishonor.” Tears were flowing freely now, my voice felt choked in my throat, and the paint on my face was washing away revealing the bruises. “But now you know. Now that I have seen you I can end it. My poor sullied body is not fit for a hero of your stature and now I can die before your eyes to show how true I am.” I climbed the rail above the pond, it was deep enough, and I wasn’t a swimmer.
He caught my wrist and pulled me back, embracing me and lifting me back over the rail, “I knew,” he said, “I knew you’re heart but I could speak to you.”
I buried my face again in his chest, aiming for the same tear soaked spot as before. “If I cannot be your wife in this life, I shall find you in another.”
“If I cannot make you my wife in this life, than I am no hero.” He said. His voice was steel: cold, sharp and unyielding.
“You must save me. Every day is a year long, pity me, m’lord.”
It seemed doubt gripped him then, “I cannot act in haste, I must have time to think.”
I clung to his tunic tears flowing afresh, “If you fear him so, just say, and I shall not suffer another sunrise.”
“Diao Chan,” He said my name, so gently on his tongue, “He is my father.”
“No more than Wang Yun is mine own, and what manner of father steals his son’s betrothed?” His body tensed at that. “He beats me . . . and, and worse.” I took a deep breath; the dagger was planted, now to twist it. “In the last month, among the other concubines, I have heard tales of your prowess. I did not think that a hero of your stature would be content to live under the rule of such a man.”
He took me by the shoulders and held me at arms length. His face was flushed with fury, or shame, but his eyes were hard and his sharp, muscular jaw clenched.
“What is the meaning of this?” Dong Zhou shouted from the doorway. “You! You ungrateful cur! I took you in when no one else would have you and now you aim to steal my prize!” The Prime Minister hefted Lu Bu’s trident halberd.
Lu Bu pushed me aside out of harms way and rushed at his father. Dong Zhou threw the halberd and drew his sword but Lu Bu knocked it aside and dodged past the fat man and ran out the door. Dong Zhou followed him and I heard a clatter and some shouting.
A moment louder the Prime Minister returned with an adviser in tow, “You have made a grave error my lord,” the advisor was saying, “she is but a woman and in acting such she might cost you the whole of the empire.”
Dong Zhou nodded grimly and they discussed the topic at length. Nodding here and there at the sage advice. “Might it be better to simply gift her to Lu Bu and end this folly?”
“What do you think, my sweet?” Dong Zhou turned to me. Duty and desire collided in my brain and it took a moment for me to formulate a response. I desperately wanted to be free of Dong Zhou, but turning Lu Bu against him was the only hope Master Yun had of ending his reign. “He is a beast!” I blurted out suddenly, “He came here and threatened to take me, to make me his. He was vicious and I feared he would force himself on me, so I threatened to throw myself into the pond than endure him.” I reached up and pull a dagger from a wall mounting and made my voice frantic, “If you give me to him I would rather end it now, I will kill myself in this very spot before I allow it!”
The Prime minister knocked the blade out of my hand as though it were nothing. He laughed, “It was joke, of course my sweet, my prize.” He looked to Li Ru as he wrapped his arm around me and drew me closer. He smelled of sweat and incense, “It seems we have our answer to that.”
“But Prime Minister . . .” He stammered.
“No. You have seen, she will kill herself; how would Lu Bu feel if I gift him a corpse? No, dead she does no one any good.” His grip on me tightened, “Please remove your self from my sight.”
Li Ru left the room weary and distraught. I heard him mutter, “We are dead people . . . slain at the hand of this girl.” I smiled to myself.
Four difficult days later, the end came, finally. We were to attend a celebration at the Emperor’s palace when our carriage was ambushed on the imperial stair. Men with spears surrounded us on all sides, ministers and generals; I saw Wang Yun among them. Dong Zhou pushed me free hoping to distract the men long enough to escape himself. They paid me no heed and I ran clear of the spearmen to my father. They promptly killed the horses and his escort deserted him. They proceeded to rock and shake the carriage until it was pushed over on its side.
Dong Zhou, in all his fatness tumbled out. They circled about him jabbing and stabbing with their spears; but none could penetrate the thick breastplate the Prime Minister wore.
Wounded in the legs and arms the Prime Minister called out, “Where is my guard? Where are my men?”
“I am here!” Cried Lu Bu, from the top of the steps, “With a decree from the Emperor to kill a rebel.” He strode boldly down the stairs, his sky-piercer halberd in hand.
“Lu Bu, my son!” He reached his bleeding arms toward his champion, “Slay these rebels.”
Lu Bu said nothing as he pushed the spear point of the halberd into Dong Zhou’s chest. Blood leaked from beneath the breastplate pooling on the stairs. He held the halberd steady, bearing the fat man’s weight in one hand not allowing him to fall. Lu Bu pulled the decree from his armor, “The Emperor has decreed the death of the traitor Dong Zhou, no one else must be harmed. Go home.”
The former Prime Minister’s escort scattered into the crowd and Lu Bu wrenched the spearhead free of the tyrant’s body. “Diao Chan,” he announced as his eyes met mine in the crowd, “You are mine now.” He smiled.
