Pearl Buck - The Living Reed

She screamed when she saw her husband, for he was covered with blood.

“You are hurt!” she cried.

“It is not my blood,” he replied. “It is the blood of Prince Min. They have tried to murder him, but they have failed.”

So much Il-han could understand, and he prepared to withdraw, yet when he looked again at these two he was impressed by the intelligence he saw on their faces, and he remembered how good the lady had been and how she had kept the Queen from the folly of murder. He lingered a moment.

“Your Excellency,” he said to the ambassador, George Foulk translating. “I must warn you now that this is indeed the beginning of a fire which we may not be able to put down. Let me ask the King to send his royal guard here to escort you to the palace where we can protect you.”

Bloodstained as he was, the American was still proud. He drew himself to his height and he took his lady’s left hand and put it in the curve of his right elbow.

“I thank you, my friend,” he said, “but we must remain in our own place, my wife and I. In all circumstances I must insist upon the inviolability of my government’s embassy. Here there must be a center of peace, however the mob riots outside our walls.”

When George Foulk had repeated this in his own language, Il-han could only bow and withdraw. He looked back once, at the gate, and he saw those two, man and wife, standing side by side in the doorway. The woman’s face was as calm in determination as the man’s, and he could but envy them their faith in themselves and in their government.

… When he returned to his house, he found Sunia gone. His man servant waited for him, weeping and distracted.

“I begged her not to go, master,” the man wailed. “I told her that you would find your way home.”

“Surely she did not go in search of me!” Il-han exclaimed.

“She went to the Queen,” the man wailed. “She thought you might have gone to save the Queen.”

The tutor now ran out. “Sir,” he said, “it is the King who is in danger.”

“How do you know?” Il-han demanded.

“I am told — I am told,” the tutor said urgently. “Never mind how, but it is said that the King has asked the Japanese minister for help and Japanese soldiers have surrounded the palace. A battle is taking place at this very moment.”

Il-han turned at once. “Take care of my sons,” he commanded, and he ran into the street followed by his servant. On foot he made his way through the crowds now shouting and screaming, some for the King, some for the Queen, most of them only adding to the noise and madness. Steadily he pushed his way among them and between them, they too maddened to see him or care who it was that burrowed here and there and always toward the palace. At the palace gates he spoke to the chief guard and gave his name. All knew him as loyal to the King and allowed him to pass. He entered then and saw in the gardens before the palace the bodies of the dead, some bleeding into the snow beneath a pine tree, some lying on the ice of a frozen lotus pond, and others scattered, twisted and crumpled. He bent and searched each face as he passed, and recognized one and another. They were all followers of the Queen, upholders of her determination to stay with the Chinese and oppose the reformers. Pools of blood lay in every crevice and low place, on stones and frozen ground, as he made his way toward the palace, expecting as he went to see the Queen herself bound with ropes and dragged out to her death. Then he lifted his eyes by chance and in the distance beyond the palace walls he saw the American flag flying in the wintry wind. At this sight he took courage, and he wondered if the Queen, hiding somewhere inside her palace, saw that flag, too, and took courage with him.

Suddenly, before he could reach the entrance to the palace, he heard a fresh uproar in the streets, and the sound of cannon. He stopped and listened and heard Chinese voices crying their war cries, and he knew what had happened. Yuan Shih-k’ai, the Chinese general sent by the Empress Tzu-hsi to maintain the power of her throne over Korea, had ordered soldiers to protect the palace and the truebone royal King and Queen. What could this mean but a battle between Chinese and Japanese, here in the palace itself? Il-han ran into the palace then and into the King’s throne room. There the King sat on his throne, and by him sat the Queen, both in their royal robes, surrounded by a handful of Japanese soldiers.

“In Buddha’s name,” the Queen cried, “why are you here?”

“Majesty,” Il-han gasped, and threw himself before them, “I came to see if you were hurt.”

“Your wife was here first,” the Queen said, “and I sent her home again under guard. If I am to die, I die alone.”

“You will not die alone,” the King said.

Before he could speak another word, the doors burst open and the Chinese soldiers swarmed in, carrying foreign guns and short Chinese swords. At the sight of them in such number, Japanese soldiers fled, leaping through windows and crashing through doors. Hundreds of Chinese followed them as they struggled to get to the Japanese warship that was in the harbor, but the Chinese cut them down until few indeed reached the safety of their ship. Then in fury the Chinese fell upon the wives and children of all Japanese in the city and cut them to pieces, too, and threw the parts into the water surrounding the ship.

So violent was the battle that even the British left their quarters and ran to the Americans for safety, and in that whole city only the American flag still waved in the wintry wind. Inside the Embassy the Americans took counsel, for they believed that they too would be attacked in the senseless frenzy of the mob, and they planned that if the mob broke through the gates and tore down the flag, only the lady Foote could save them. She alone was well loved by the people, for all knew how she had persuaded the Queen not to kill the families of those who had rebelled against her, and how she had done this by reminding the Queen of her own gods. If the mob broke in, therefore, it was planned that the lady Foote would sit in a chair in the middle of an empty room with all the valuable documents beside her, and she would ask the people to spare her and for her sake all her fellow citizens. This Il-han did not know until afterwards, when George Foulk told him. For in the end the mob did not enter the American Embassy, and the flag continued to wave above its walls.

While this was going on Il-han remained with the King and the Queen, for by now they were surrounded by the Chinese, and Il-han stayed with them until the city was quiet. When the Queen rose to return to her own palace he knelt before her and said nothing until she spoke.

“Lift your head,” she commanded, and he lifted his head.

“Get to your feet,” she said, and he rose to his feet.

She gave him a long steady look.

“There will be another time,” she said. “Watch for it — and come earlier to save me.”

“Yes, Majesty,” he said.

He waited until she was gone, and then he turned to the King, preparing once more to kneel but the King stopped him with lifted hand.

“Here is sorrow,” he said, “when a kingdom comes between a man and his wife.”

He dropped his hand then and bowed his head, and Il-han knew himself dismissed.

When Il-han reached his own gate, it was barred as though for siege. He beat upon the gate and he waited but there was no answer.

“Beat again with me,” he commanded his servant.

They beat four-handed, raising such clatter that doors opened along the street and neighbors put out their heads. When they saw what was going on, they shut their doors again in haste.

In such times every small sign was of significance, and Il-han felt his heart grow cold with fear. Had some vengeance been wreaked upon his family by unknown enemies? Enemies he knew he had for he had been friend first to the Queen and then to the King, and in his double duty doubtless he had made enemies on both sides. He was casting about in his mind to know what he could do, when suddenly the gate opened a crack and the gateman looked out. When he saw who was there he beckoned to Il-han to come in, but he held the door so that only he and the servant could enter and then he barred the gate again.