The Tapestries (33 page)

“Please, be gracious and listen.” He knelt at the side of her bed. “I will not allow you to forsake me twice in a lifetime.”

Her tears felt warm on his hands. She reached for his silk headdress and unraveled it. His hair fell across his shoulders, dark and long. She brushed her fingers through it.

“I cannot say what you want me to say,” she said. “The truth has been bottled up so deep, locked in me like I am now locked inside this bordello. Are you going to take your revenge out on me? Can you not see that I am suffering for the sins I have committed? What will satisfy you, besides my pitiable profession and my dreadful solitude? When will you believe that I am now settling my crimes with the gods?”

“But you must explain,” said Dan. “Why are you selling your body? And why are you alone?”

“Because I am worthless as a human being. Because I have no skill or talent to be independent. And because I renounced my own son when he was most vulnerable.”

“And why was I renounced? Why did you leave me behind to face a destiny that was worse than death?”

“Because,” she screamed, “I wanted you to live!”

Her words seemed to exhaust her. Tears mixed with dark mascara ran down her cheeks in muddy tracks. “I wanted you to live,” she repeated. “I knew my limitations. You would have already been dead if you were in my care. I gave you to that peasant because I trusted her instinct, her survival skills, and most of all, her single-minded devotion. I knew she would save you, as she would be able to blend in among the other farmers like a locust in the grass.”

Dan stiffened. “You did not know that, madam. That peasant sacrificed her own safety on several occasions to save me. And in the end she died, so that I could live. Did your gardener give his life for you?” He fell silent, aware of the malice in his voice. To hide his embarrassment, Dan passed his hand across his brow and wiped away the perspiration.

“On the contrary,” she said. “I entrusted my fortune to him and required nothing in return. He was a gambler. Most of the Nguyen family's legacies I took with me were spent to feed his addiction to laying bets. I found out, when it was much too late, that he owed several casinos in town an enormous sum, more than twenty thousand silver pieces.”

She took a deep breath and continued, “To pay off this debt and save him from a dreadful end, I had no other choice but to sell myself to this brothel. What folly! He left me after I repaid his debt. My blind love for him carried me so far as to become a prostitute, only to be discarded. My gardener found shelter in another woman's arms, while I have spent the last fifteen years considering myself dead to the world. Now that you are here, my heart has awoken to beat again, only to suffer with the agony of the past. Oh, Heavens, help me!” She again gave way to sobbing.

“Stop your tears. Your troubles are coming to an end, madam,” Dan said, standing up. “I will find a way to release you from this place. No other man shall walk into the tea shop and ill-treat you again. This is a promise I intend to keep.”

“How?” she cried. “Unless you are a rich lord, I do not see how you will find twenty thousand silver coins, plus fifteen years of interest, to redeem my freedom.”

“Oh, but there is a way,” he said pensively. “The tattoo on your back, do you understand its meaning, madam?”

Her anguish faded. He could see then that she knew, as a sparkle of awareness crept into her eyes. He watched her fingers toying with the quilt's silken fringe. The clock ticked in the silence.

“How did you know about the tattoo?” she said finally. “You were only a small child when we parted.”

“Madam, I knew about the buried treasure. The tattoo, the map…I knew its secret.”

She gazed at the floor and did not answer. What was going through her mind? If only he could show her his true intention. If only Ven were here. “If you do not trust your own son, whom can you trust?” he asked.

He reached for her, and he could sense her again retreating. Her powdered face was inches away from him, impassive, stubborn.

“Do you want me to disappear?” he asked.

“I don't know,” she said, hesitating. “Do you have a copy of my husband's tattoo?”

“No, and I don't remember its details, but I know who has the original.”

“You must tell me then.”

“Very well,” he sighed, giving in. “My father's skin, which bore the first half of the map, is in Magistrate Toan's possession. I watched him as he removed it from my father's body.”

“You must get it back,” she said. “That man is our mortal enemy. Kill him before he escapes his Karma. And make certain that you see his blood spill. I trust you to carry out our revenge. Only you…” She shifted her eyes away from his face. Gathering her composure, she continued in a voice so soft he had to strain to hear her. “Only you, the last standing Nguyen, can restore our family's name and legacy.”

“I am not, by any means, a killer,” he whispered.

“How else can you reclaim your heritage?” she asked. “Can you ask the devil to return the map with peace and politeness? Or do you think that we can get justice by approaching the Royal Court to restore our name and property?”

“I will find a way to retrieve it, with no more bloodshed. Trust me when I tell you this: If violence were truly in my blood, I would have found a way to destroy him and his family long ago. I was a slave in his house for nine long years. That alone gave me countless opportunities. But there I was given shelter, food, and an education, and there I fell in love with an innocent girl.”

“They destroyed us!” she said. “They killed your father. I am in a whorehouse, and you grew up as a slave. There was no mercy in the act—you said so in your own words. Blood can only be washed away with blood. Surely the gods in Heaven have kept you alive for that purpose. Don't you understand the principle of revenge?”

He did not; in fact, he could not begin to grasp the burden she had put on him. “I am not a killer,” he said again. “If I murdered Magistrate Toan, I would risk my only chance of happiness with his granddaughter, whom I have loved more than anyone or anything else on this earth, including my own life. Avenge yourself then, madam, for I am helpless against the dictates of my heart. By asking me to commit a deadly act against her grandfather, you are asking me to cut away the only joy in my existence. I would rather let you kill me.”

Lady Yen groaned and pulled at her hair. “How dreadful is Heaven's will! Is this a foolish game that was arranged by the vengeful gods? Dan, my poor son, how could you love the enemy's offspring? Now I know for certain that I will be trapped here in this bordello for eternity. Guilty as I was, I do not deserve such punishment. Look at me—my skin is drooping, my eyes grow gray, my beauty fades. I will die here, alone, suffering to my last hour.” She sat up, pointing her finger at the door. “You must go, for I have no more to ask of you. As far as I am concerned, you ceased to exist on the day I left the mansion.”

The clock struck, as if to signify that his hour in her room was coming to a close. In a solemn tone, he said, “I will find the money to buy back your freedom. And I will take revenge on the enemy as you ask of me. I tell you, he shall die! But together with his blood, mine will flow as well. Because in death I shall possess the freedom to be near my lover for eternity.”

Without knowing how he walked out of her room, he found himself on the street. Away from her, the heaviness that had suffocated him lifted, and he could breathe again.

B
y the time Dan Nguyen left Morin Street, the night was almost over. The exhausted city was asleep, silent except for the lonely echoes of his footsteps. The yellow moon that had followed him throughout the evening was now a transparent ghost in the dark sky.

The main gates of the citadel were wide open. From the watch-tower, a gleaming beacon whirled through the darkness every few seconds; it stopped momentarily to shine on him as he approached the gate. Beyond the light, the gloomy shadows of the guards, like clay figures sitting staidly under their small roof, nodded at Dan when he presented his ivory pass.

The royal city, just hours ago crowded with party-goers, was now deserted. Dan wound his way through the dark alleys. His hair whipped in the restless night air, and he felt naked without his silk headdress. In his hurry to flee the Red Dreams Hotel, he had forgotten it on the floor of his mother's bedroom. Would it end up among the souvenirs on her mantel?

What a fool he had been, thinking that he could escape his obligation. In all the years he had watched life as a spectator, he had been marking time, as surely as the ticking clock in his mother's room. Clearly he was, after all, just one more marionette in a puppet show orchestrated by some invisible force. A supreme being, perhaps? What about his free will, and how could he exercise it?

Again he thought of his mother's shrill voice:
Only blood can wash away blood, and you are the last standing man of the Nguyen family I
Through her words his ancestors' demands seared him like a flaming sword, and his entire life came to a new focus.

Dan understood that the answers he was seeking lay hidden within the walls of the Cam Le Village, and he knew he must go home.

H
e saw the outline of his apartment, visible behind a curtain of leaves. He tiptoed across a series of wooden bridges, down the slope that led to his front lawn. A lamp glowed in his window, and the door hung open. Dan paused. From inside came the rustling sound of clothing, followed by a quavering voice.

“Master Dan Nguyen, is that you? At last you are home. I have been waiting all night.”

Dan shaded his eyebrows to concentrate on the shadow. From the darkness emerged a wrinkled face, yellow under the lantern's glow. Dan recognized the king's former chamberlain, Ung, although he had never spoken to him before. Why was this man inside his living room? He stepped inside.

“I have important news to deliver to you,” Ung said. His hunched form seemed incongruous among the shadows of bookshelves. There was no furniture in the room, except for a small chair at a corner. On the gray cement floor, a leopard-skin rug spread like a puddle of paint, catching the flickering light.

“You must go with me to see someone,” Ung said.

“Who? And at this hour?”

“Yes, right this instant, sir. It was her dying wish to see you.”

Dan gave a start of comprehension. “Lady Chin?” Yes, sir.

“She knows who I am?”

“Yes, sir. She knows that you have been bringing her the sustenance that has held her spirit to this earthly realm. She recognized you from last night's ball.”

“She was there? How could she, being so ill?”

The eunuch pushed his chest forward and said, “I took her there. I convinced her that she should receive some fresh air. You must come with me, young Master. She gave me specific instructions to notify the Queen Mother, in case you refuse to comply. I hope that you do not force me to make that decision, Sir Dan.”

Dan seized the old man's hands. “I cannot explain right now, but I am leaving the citadel, and I am asking for your cooperation. Lady Chin wishes to speak to me, for she has guessed something. Her intuition is accurate. I am about to reveal to her a secret that has been trapped in my bosom for all these years. She must not die without knowing the truth.” Noticing the eunuch's baffled expression, he slowed his speech as if he were talking to a child. “Please, you appear to understand this matter. Before it is too late, I ask you to help save her soul. I need you to help me take her to the river for the last trip of her life. I cannot leave without her.”

The eunuch took several steps backward. “I cannot do what you are asking me,” he said. “She would not understand, nor would she survive such a vigorous journey.”

“If you keep her in that dark room, you are only prolonging her agony.”

“It is not a possibility, Master Dan,” the old man said.

Dan pulled at his hair. What could he do to persuade this poor man to change his mind? “Wait here,” he said. Leaving the old man standing in his living room, Dan ran into his sleeping quarters. He opened a simple mahogany chest and fumbled among his clothing until he found a silver chain. He took it back to the living room, only to find that his visitor had left.

Dan rushed outside. The eunuch was standing under a streetlight. His hands clutched the lantern.

“We will bring this to her together,” Dan said, holding the bracelet in the lamplight for the eunuch to see. “Her son, Bui, once wore this chain around his ankle. Once she sees it, she will make her own decision about what to do.”

The old man whispered, “Sir Dan, you overwhelm me with such secrecy. Who are you? And where are you planning to take her?”

“I am taking her to face Providence,” replied Dan. “There, she will find peace through learning the truth—all of it, including my identity.”

“Very well, then,” said the eunuch. “Follow me. I will take you to her.”

They set off in the direction of the Apartments of Peace. The tall frangipani trees that lined the path dropped thousands of white petals, dancing around the two men in the wind.

chapter twenty

The Bicycle

L
ong ago, when she had just gotten married, Lady Chin had received a generous wedding present from her husband: a bluish silver-white bicycle imported from a factory in Marseille. She never learned how to ride it alone, but she hoped to master it one day, so she kept it, still in its shipping crate, at the foot of her bed. Minister Chin Tang then belonged to the fourth rank of mandarins—the lowest tier in the court that would allow him to enter the terraces outside the throne room. One afternoon when he had completed his duties, he decided to take the vehicle and his wife out for a spin. For as long as she lived, Lady Chin would never forget that ride.

At first the excursion did not go well. The black saddle seat, where she perched in front of her husband, seemed ridiculously small for two adults to share. Her hands grasped the steering handle, next to a thin rod that held a rearview mirror. The long panels of her skirt were trapped between her thighs. And her feet…she remembered how difficult it was to rest them on the two tiny posts on the front wheel.