Work Text:
A king there was, in days of old,
But that’s not where our story’s told.
His halls of gold have since decayed:
His throne now lost, his crown betrayed.
That king walks now across the earth;
No halls hath he, no home nor berth.
Decayed, I say, but true, I mean
Decayed in grace: their might, their sheen
Now fallen to great treachery.
He whose rule had once stretched li,
Who’d powered over land and man,
Now holds but one life in his hands:
His own, left him by some disdain:
The crown-thief thought he’d not attain
A way to wrest his halls again.
So wanders he upon the mould
That king who lived in days of old.
Ji Fa, for so named’s our king,
Travels now to great Da Jing.
He plans an audience to seek,
With that great emperor to speak.
Knows he well the risk is high:
Who’d honor a king who’ll buy
His crown back with neighborly hand?
Will not that neighbor want some land,
Some homage, or some fealty?
All these downsides well knows he.
But that crown-thief left in Wu—
Ji Fa fears for what he’ll do
To his people, to his land,
If Ji Fa does not make a stand.
Thinks Ji Fa, he’ll see the king
He will ask if great Da Jing
Can lend some might to help his Wu.
Ji Fa does not expect to,
While seeking to appear before
The court of that great emperor,
Be spotted by some advisor.
This advisor seeks, in brief,
For the emperor, in his grief,
A new consort for his bed
To replace one who late is dead.
When this advisor Ji Fa sees,
He thinks: “what luck, I’ve solved my quest
This gentleman is quite the best
Of beauties throughout all Da Jing:
A perfect consort for my king.”
And so Ji Fa is brought before
The court of that great emperor.
Ji Fa now for weeks has been
Wandering through great Da Jing
And from what he now has seen
He does not think the Da Jing king
Much better than the Wu crown-thief:
He spares his people little grief.
What’s more, he doubts the king will lief
Barter with an exile who
Once sat upon the throne of Wu
When he could simply trade him to
The one who sits there in his stead
And gain some nice price for his head.
But, Ji Fa thinks, perhaps as queen
He’ll have some access to scheme
Perhaps he can his own luck make
And win back Wu from this mistake.
It’s more likely than without a head,
At least, he thinks, and so he’s led
To the emperor, who says:
“This one has a lovely face,
And beauty of uncommon grace.
Yes, he’ll do well to warm my bed
And replace she who now is dead.”
And so with that the two are wed.
A king before, a king once more
Though “queen” he’s styled and know they not
What lies behind those miles walked—
What lies beneath that queenly crown,
What bold blood beats beneath that gown.
To Da Jing, Ji Fa’s but a bride
Not a former king who’ll bide
His time till he can wrest some gain:
Some way to win his crown again.
His past know none, but one: the son.
The emperor’s son: less proud, more learn’d
Had seen Wu once before it burned.
He knows about those golden halls
He knows the name that ruled those walls.
When first meets he his new queen,
He bows, eyes down, lips barely seen.
But soon he finds some way to meet:
In gardens they privately greet.
He bows again—his eyes are strong—
And says, ere Ji Fa can wonder long:
“Ji Fa.”
Queen Ji Fa’s shock is barely shown
An eyebrow lifts he: that alone
A sign of what inside his breast
Has caused a turmoil, an unrest.
“Ji Fa?” asks he; his voice betrays
No hint of golden halls decayed.
“So you were and so you are,
And so shall you be again.
If aid you need, you’ll have from me—”
“Learned may you be, but strategy
Is not your skill, or why came ye
Upon me here, unarmed, it seems,
Your only threat my name—”
“’Twas not
A threat,” says Han Ye, bold and true.
“It was a promise, me to you.
Do not doubt me, O my queen.
You think I’m young? These eyes have seen
Enough to judge the heart of man
Enough to know my father can
Save all our people if he wants.
Enough to know he does not want.
I’ve seen men die within our walls
I’ve seen men die for sake of these halls.
You think I don’t know what I say?
I’ve heard tales of you from better days:
They say you ruled with grace and might,
They say you led your kingdom right.
I need an ally, strong and good.
You need an ally, learn’d and unproud.
I’m asking you to join with me
And if you won’t—here, see
Take my dagger, a single blow
Aimed here through my heart would show
My error well enough—what’s more,
Would lay my treason bare before
Our lord king, the emperor.”
Han Ye glares, chin raised, throat bared
His eyes aflash, his heart prepared.
“If I be wrong, then make me wrong!”
Cries he, and round them lifts a throng
Of birds as if to mark that place,
As if to mark that tenuous grace.
And says the queen into that space:
“You are not wrong.”
“But still,” says he,
“In things requiring strategy,
Leave those to me.”
And then, he smiles.
The first such smile the son has seen.
The first such smile the sun has seen
Since Ji Fa left those hall of gold.
Since he wandered ’cross the mould.
And Han Ye, caught up in its bloom,
Thinks: I’m doomed.
For him I’ll go
Even where the stars don’t show.
And so, and so, and so.
They rendezvous in gardens green.
With guards distant, words pass unseen
(While Ji Fa’s a prized consort, true,
With Han Ye there, there’s no one who
Would dare a bold attack to make
—so think the guards, and take a break.)
“I have some spies in your country,”
Says Han Ye as he elegantly
Guides the man who’d once ruled lands
Who’d held not fan but sword in hand
Around a gentle pathway bend.
“We can through them a message send.
If one remains who you can trust—”
“Yes,” says Ji Fa, “One such does.
He’s a wiser man than me:
Retired seven years is he,
And lives out east, toward the sea.
I think by time news of my fate
Had reached him, it was far too late.”
As Ji Fa’d walked across the mould
In his head a plan took hold
And while he’d hoped as queen to scheme,
This new plan far exceeds his dreams.
“This man was once a general who
Guided many men of Wu.
Men my age hold him in respect
And if he leads, they might elect
To follow what our message starts.
He might even win the hearts
Of younger men who have been bought
By funds the crown-thief ill-begot.”
This younger man would not be bought,
Han Ye bites back, his eyes aflash,
But they’ve reached the end of garden path.
Ji Fa leaves him with a smile,
And each goes to plot a while.
It’s raining the next time they meet
Umbrella raised up, Han Ye greets
His queen, who lightly sets a hand
Upon his arm, as if, to stand,
He needs support, and murmurs low,
“Your father we may deal a blow.
I know a poison, slow but sure
Hard to detect and with no cure.
It must be administered
By one who’s near to him, revered.
This will not be hard to do.”
“So, every time he comes to you—?”
Ji Fa nods, the strategy
Overshadowing things that he
Might otherwise have blushed to say:
“The emperor comes on many days.”
The plan is neat, a schemer’s dream,
And yet somehow the next words seem
To sit in Han Ye’s mouth like dust:
“We’ll prey upon my father’s lust.”
To lighten the look on Han Ye’s face,
Jokes Ji Fa: “After all, my grace
And beauty are a treasured prize.
To this old Wu king, it’s a surprise
But we’ll make use of these allies.”
(Han Ye, inside, mentally: dies.)
In time they meet in Han Ye’s rooms,
Ji Fa traveling through the gloom
of night to arrive secretly.
A cloak over his gown has he,
Which Han Ye hangs up carefully
As Ji Fa sits down to review
What facts Han Ye has gleaned anew.
One such night, the news is bleak.
Ji Fa touches Han Ye’s arm and speaks:
“Make no mistake, I’m grateful to
You who’ve set the stage for Wu.
But you could now step aside,
Leave coups to me, let this scheme bide.”
While Ji Fa’s life he’ll risk sans pause,
To risk Han Ye’s now seems a flaw.
“Please,” says Han Ye. “Step aside?
You really think I’ll let this bide?
As if you do not risk a thing
For the sake of my Da Jing.”
Ji Fa’s risks the greater weigh
On Han Ye’s shoulders day by day.
“You’ve weakened him by some degree
In time he will die naturally.
In this we rush the wheel of fate,
The crown’s still mine if I but wait.
So what say you, you could bide too.
We could limit our aims to Wu.”
“You ask me this? You, who fight
To save your people from this blight?
Wait till he dies—who’ll still be left?
When the king dies, will you draw breath?
You said men die within these halls.
It’s not for sure your future calls.”
Han Ye, chin raised, eyes bold and true
Draws his breath to fight anew.
“Hold,” laughs Ji Fa. “Peace. Alright.
We’re stubborn mules. Let’s not fight.
I’ll kill your king and you’ll kill mine.
We’ll keep the plans, we’ll both not bide.
And after all—” he gestures round.
“Not like they’d spare us if we’re found.”
In Han Ye’s rooms they’ve made a nest
Of treasonous papers, files, and chests
Of gold to pay those less inclined
To put their lives down on the line.
As months pass, both plans form shape
The Wu general finds men to take
The risks to help regain their king
And, meanwhile, in great Da Jing
The emperor’s health begins to wane
For no reason, the doctors claim.
Even an emperor grows old;
Youth’s strength one can’t forever hold.
The conspirators meet week by week
In gardens green or rooms unseen.
Some days there’s no new news to plot.
On those days, they simply talk:
Talk of their pasts and what’s to come
When schemes are done and they’ve both won.
Among the palace, both are known
As somber men, smiles rarely shown
On either’s face. Yet in that space,
In rooms unseen, in tenuous grace,
With Ji Fa’s hand on Han Ye’s arm,
Or Ji Fa’s cloak in Han Ye’s hands,
Smiles come easily between
The emperor’s son and his new queen.
One evening, their regular scheme,
Ji Fa enters Han Ye’s rooms unseen.
Han Ye rises, takes his cloak,
Avoids his eyes, as when he’d spoke
To Ji Fa all those months ago.
He’s not sure what his eyes will show.
“This afternoon we news received:
Things are in place for me to leave.”
“Oh,” says Ji Fa. “Oh. Oh.”
That night they talk through what they’ve planned:
Where to go to meet which man.
It’s all things they already know,
The conversation more to show
The dangerous path that they both know
Han Ye will face, and that they’ve braced
Themselves for it, as best they can.
When that’s done, the silence rests
Thick, unbroken in their chests.
Ji Fa’s hand on Han Ye's arm he lays.
Han Ye again can’t meet his gaze.
“Han Ye,” Ji Fa says, voice low.
“This thing between us—
I would know you, ere you go.”
The silence hangs. The answer thrums
in Han Ye’s skin: a frantic drum.
“—You mean tonight,” blurts Han Ye, dumb.
“If I am wrong—”
“You are not wrong!
God, Ji Fa, how I have longed—
I’d planned to ask when all is done,
When you—I—well—”
“Han Ye. Come—”
Ji Fa stops him with a kiss.
Time slows. Remembering this
their only plan for this span
of time. When they part, Ji Fa tries,
At the look in Han Ye’s eyes,
Not to shiver: to disguise
The feeling brought by those bold eyes.
They kiss again. Ji Fa’s hands
That’d rest so light on Han Ye’s arm
Now burn against his skin: a balm
That Han Ye drinks down eagerly
As if it’s the sole time that he
Will taste this touch.
Han Ye’s hands that’d lightly raise
Ji Fa’s cloak hood to see his gaze
Part Ji Fa’s robes now, chasing skin,
His hands urgent to feel within.
Into his hands Han Ye imbues
Every longing, every hue
Of care between them that’s now grown.
He hopes, whoever sits on throne,
When Ji Fa next feels lover’s touch,
He’ll think of Han Ye. This much
Han Ye wants to leave behind:
Himself, his touch, to Ji Fa bind.
Their sighs and murmurs fill the night.
They lie together till dawn’s light.
The time that Han Ye spends in Wu
Could be his favorite: there’s few who
Know who he is or why he’s there,
But Ji Fa is not there, and so
The days pass by him very slow.
The Wu general’s set things in play;
Han Ye’s there to help maintain
Order once the crown-thief’s killed,
As no one besides Han Ye’s skilled
At ruling people, keeping peace.
Han Ye doesn’t deal the blow
To kill the crown-thief, but he knows:
About the city, a hush lifts
As if the death is a strange gift.
Before chaos far can spread,
Han Ye opens grain stores, orders fed
The people who’ve endured such grief
Under the reign of this crown-thief.
And while Han Ye himself would lief
To go see Ji Fa’s halls of gold,
See where he’d ruled as king of old,
That doesn’t fit the story told,
To explain Han Ye’s presence there.
So he hands out bags of grain
And marks each person by their name.
The story Han Ye’d told back home
Is that he must the border roam.
A survey: to explain why he is gone
And why it takes so very long
To reach him with the dire news:
The emperor’s life may be at close.
This is no shock to Han Ye, who
With Ji Fa counted, when in Wu
Han Ye should expect to hear
The emperor’s time had grown quite dear.
Han Ye, of course, feigns surprise
And rides home to precede the demise.
At the emperor’s deathbed’s seen:
His favorite son, his favorite queen.
Son stands with stoic countenance,
While queen kneels with a watery glance.
The court whispers praise for that good son
Who’d hurried home and barely won
The race to see his father pass
Out of this life. And soon, at last,
His life-breath dims, his gaze grows weak;
With one last frail strength he seeks
His son: on him he lays a hand.
His queen: on him, another hand.
He smiles, pleased, looks to the skies—
With one last breath, the emperor dies.
One emperor dies, one emperor stands
The crown falls now to Han Ye’s hands.
Han Ye moves swift in his new rule
Opens grains stores, shows a cruel
Ruler’s not who he will be:
He means to lead benevolently.
And in the palace, before long
Ji Fa hides within the throng
Of past consorts; it’s what they’d planned
For Ji Fa to escape this land.
First diminish, then disappear.
No time to meet before he leaves—
Both watched too close: someone might see.
Ji Fa leaves ’fore night is done;
When Han Ye wakes, Ji Fa is gone.
Word comes soon: the old Wu king’s
Back on his throne; his people sing
His praises loud at every turn.
Han Ye hears this; while he yearns,
He pretends he’s just now learned
Of this new re-crownéd king,
So great his tales reach to Da Jing.
Both nations flourish, ruled well
And it’s expected that kings tell
Each other of some thoughts and plans,
Some strategies for both their lands.
So it’s no wonder, people say,
Post flies ’tween both nations every day
Month by month pass in this way.
And yet, for the lovers cast atwain
Time does not ease them of their pain.
For Han Ye in his palace cold,
Nor Ji Fa in his halls of gold.
Victorious in all their goals,
Except for this, their own hearts sold
For sake of nations that they hold.
It’s near a year till next they meet,
The powers of diplomacy
Allowing Ji Fa, though he’s king
To travel himself to Da Jing.
Han Ye can barely meet his eyes,
Hiding his gaze by the guise
Of a distant emperor,
Lest he see Ji Fa as before:
Bare, beautiful, and strong:
Smile as warm as day is long.
They talk by day on topics meet,
By night they fall between the sheets,
As urgent as at their first time
Each trying to make each other thine.
It's been a year since last they met,
And some words cannot be put to page;
Some need cannot be so constrained
In word: it speaks only in touch.
(Luckily, they touch very much.)
The last day dawns; Ji Fa needs to
Pack up to return to Wu.
Instead, in Han Ye’s arms he rests,
His head reclined on Han Ye’s chest.
“Han Ye, how do we go on
Like this? I miss you every day.”
“I miss you too.”
“Then can’t we stay
Together, always, in this way?
My general could lead in Wu
And I could rule from here, with you.”
Han Ye’s hand stills on Ji Fa’s back.
“Ji Fa, I think, perhaps, I lack
Your meaning. Wu is your home.
For this you wandered ’cross the mould,
For this you fought with hand and hold.
I’ll not see you lose it—”
“Han Ye. One home I fought for,
Gained I two. I gained you.”
“Oh.”
“Oh.”
“So.”
“Well,” says Ji Fa, seriously,
“As it’s a matter of strategy,
I propose you best let me—”
Han Ye tackles him in an embrace.
Laughing, Ji Fa hides his face
In Han Ye’s neck. No more is said
Of strategy within that bed.
From that day, Da Jing has two kings,
And Wu as well: combined, they sing
As one great nation in the plains,
Their people happily full of grain,
Their rulers in love unconstrained.