Tiger's Voyage (29 page)

“Yes. For betraying the man I loved.”

I dropped the frame to my lap and stared at her. She looked up and shooed at me with her hand until I picked up the frame and continued.

“Shall I tell you what happened?” she asked. “I haven’t shared the story with anyone in many years, and something tells me you will understand.”

I nodded mutely, so she began. “Many, many years ago, women were admired for their skill in needlework. Girls were trained at a very young age, and those most highly skilled were taken to sew for the emperor. Some, a very few, even became wives for noblemen, and because of their skill, their families were well provided for.

“At the celebration of every New Year, young girls were chosen to learn this skill. They gather around a bowl of water and dip their fingers in at the edges. A needle is then placed on the surface of the water and spun. When it stops, the girl who the needle points to is taken away for special training in embroidery.

“Baby girls born with slender, long fingers were watched carefully in the hope that they might bring the family fame and fortune through the art. I was such a child. I was praised as being the most talented worker of the needle in the entire empire, and the designs I created were highly sought after by the wealthiest of men. My father received fifty offers of marriage for me before I turned sixteen, but he rejected them all. He was a proud man and thought I might get even better offers as I grew into my skill.”

“Then how did you meet the one you came to love?”

She clucked her tongue. “Patience, young one. To create something beautiful takes practice and much patience.”

“I’m sorry. Please continue.”

She leaned over to peruse my work. “You have some skill with the thread, but you need to take out the last two and do them again. They are spaced just a bit too far apart.”

I peered closely at the fabric. They looked exactly even to me, but it was her project, so I obediently took them out and started again.

“A few years later, at age twenty, I met someone, a handsome young man who worked with silk. His family formed the worms, spun, and dyed the threads, and they were very good, the best in the country. Once I felt the fine thread and had seen the perfection in the coloring, I made a point of only ordering from them.

“I’d been commissioned to make a wardrobe for the future bride of the emperor. He’d planned a fantastic ceremony though he still hadn’t selected the lucky woman. My father was paid handsomely to bring me to the palace. I was to live there for a year and sew marvelous clothing and a bridal veil for the emperor’s new wife. The prospect was exciting to such a young girl. I was given generous living arrangements near the emperor himself, and I wanted for nothing. When my family was allowed to visit from time to time, I could see the joy my being there brought to them.

“There were only two problems. The first was that the emperor was very selective and his tastes changed every day. He visited me every week to check on my progress. I would only just begin a design, and then he would change his mind. He’d want birds one week, flowers the next, gold one week, then silver and blue, red, the lightest lavender, the richest purple, and so on. The man changed his mind more often than he changed his bathwater. Perhaps that was why he took so long to select a bride.”

I laughed quietly.

She frowned. “The second problem was that he soon began to make romantic overtures on his visits. When I would mention his fiancée, he would laugh and say, ‘I’m sure she won’t mind. I haven’t even decided which woman to choose, but I should marry by the end of the year. An emperor needs heirs, don’t you think? We have plenty of time to get to know one another in the meanwhile, eh, my sweet?’ I’d nod and tell him I was busy and usually he left me alone.

“Because of the emperor’s eclectic and varied tastes, I became very familiar with the young man who delivered the silk fabrics. He was kept very busy bringing new thread and material. Sometimes he’d sit and talk with me as I sewed. Soon I began to look forward to his visits, and it wasn’t much later that I started to invent new reasons to have him come. I often found myself daydreaming of him, and my work began to suffer.

“Though I loved sewing, I lost enthusiasm for the emperor’s projects and attentions. I stared out the window one day when I saw my young man walk across the courtyard. Inspiration struck, and I became excited about starting a new project, one that
I
wanted to do. I’d never made anything uncommissioned before. I’d been working for others since I was a young girl and never had any extra time. I envisioned in my head exactly what I wanted to create—a gift for my young silkmaker. I couldn’t sleep, so enthralled was I by my task.

“Day and night I worked, knowing my young man would visit me again at the end of the next week. At last, he knocked on the door. I hid my creation behind my back as I asked him to enter. He greeted me with a warm smile and set down his package. ‘I have something for you,’ I said.

“‘What is it?’

“‘A gift. Something I made for you.’

“His eyes lit up with surprise and happiness as I handed him the present I’d wrapped in brown paper. He carefully opened it and picked up the scarf. Mulberry trees ran down the length of the golden fabric, and silkworm cocoons hung from the branches. White silkworm moths sat on some of the leaves, and silken threads of every hue were wound around a shuttle on either end of the scarf. He held it gently in his hands and touched an embroidered leaf. ‘It’s lovely,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been given anything so fine.’

“‘It was nothing,’ I stammered.

“‘No. I know how long this must have taken you. You have given me something very valuable.’

“I lowered my eyes and hesitantly said, ‘I would give you more … if you asked.’ That was when he touched me. He simply took a step forward and brushed the back of his fingers across my cheek. ‘I cannot … be with you,’ he said.

“‘Oh,’ I said, disappointed, and stepped away.

“He pressed on, ‘Ah, you misunderstand. If there was anything I could do to make you mine, I would not hesitate. But I am not a rich man. Surely not rich enough for one such as you. But I
would
choose you if I could.’ He cupped my cheek with his palm. ‘Please believe this,’ he said.

“I nodded, and as he left, I tried to accept that we could not be together. Still, I watched for him week after week and as the year passed, we fell deeply in love. Though it would bring shame and disappointment to my family, I told him that my love for him was too strong to deny. We made plans to secretly elope and marry as soon as I was finished with the emperor’s commission. We would give all the riches to my family and leave. He would take some silkworms, and I would bring my skill, and together we could start anew in a province far away.

“Finally, the year was up, and the emperor let me finish the veil. It was fine work. Not my finest, for that belonged to the one I loved, but it was pretty. The veil was light pink with dark pink roses embroidered around the edges. When I presented it to the emperor, he lifted it over my head and pronounced that he was now ready to marry his bride. Then he suggested that I should prepare myself.

“‘Prepare myself for what?’ I asked.

“‘For the wedding, of course.’

“‘Am I to assist your fiancée with the veil?’

“‘No, my dear. You
are
my fiancée.’

“Women came into the room to help prepare me. I panicked and begged the emperor for another day. I told him I needed to speak with my father. He responded that my father had happily agreed to the marriage and was waiting to escort me. Thinking frantically, I stammered that I wanted to make him a rose kerchief to match my veil. He patted my cheek and said that he was feeling generous and would indulge me. He would give me one more day.

“I sent word immediately to my young man, demanding that rose thread be delivered at once. When he arrived, I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. He hugged me back and asked me what was wrong. I explained that the emperor had made plans to marry me and that my father had accepted. I begged him to take me away, quickly, that evening. He said he didn’t think we could escape with the guards watching the palace, but he knew someone, a wizard, who he thought could be bribed to help us. He told me to wait for him, that someone would come for me that night and would wear the scarf I’d made for him. He asked me to trust him.”

“What happened?” I asked. “Did someone come?”

“Yes. An ordinary brown plow horse came.”

“A plow horse?”

“Yes. He trotted slowly to my window and neighed softly. He wore the scarf wrapped around his neck.”

“The horse wore the scarf? Where was your young man?”

“I didn’t know. I was frightened. The horse stamped his feet and neighed louder, but I stood at the window, wringing my hands. I didn’t know what to do. Should I climb out the window and onto the horse’s back? Where would I go then? The horse became more agitated, alerting an annoyed guard, who tried to shoo him away. Men were sent to take the horse to the stables, but he kicked and bit and neighed loudly. Finally, one of the head guards came out and told them to shut the horse up before it woke the emperor.

“Nothing they tried to do would settle the animal. The scarf slipped from around its neck and fell into the mud. The soldiers tromped on it and ruined the lovely gift. I cried and wondered where my young man was. I despaired thinking he’d been shot or killed on the road. They finally managed to take the horse away, so everyone could settle down for the night. My young man never came. I watched for him at the window all that night.

“The next morning the emperor came to me and had me escorted to a bathing chamber. Women bathed and dressed me in the beautiful clothes I had made, and just before I was led into the great hall, the emperor came into my chamber, sent out the servants, and closed the door behind him. ‘I have a wedding present for you, my dear.’ He handed me the scarf I’d given to my young man. It had been cleaned and pressed but many of the delicate stitches were torn. Tears fell down my face.

“‘An interesting incident occurred last night. It seems a plow horse entered the palace grounds wearing this very scarf. He made enough noise that the guards took him away and locked him in the stables. The next morning, to our surprise, we found not a horse but the silkmaker in the stall. We asked him what magic he used and why he’d come. He won’t speak. He refuses to share his reason for infiltrating my palace in the middle of the night.’

“He touched the scarf lightly to my face and said, ‘I can only assume that he came to assassinate me. How fortunate you are that your husband-to-be is safe.’

“Before I could guard my words, I exclaimed, ‘He
didn’t
come to assassinate you!’

“The emperor tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘Didn’t he? Are you sure? You do know him better than anyone else here. Perhaps he came here for a completely different reason. Why do you think he came, my dear?’

“‘I … I’m sure he was only bringing me more thread. Perhaps he was set upon by a warlock, and he needed some help.’

“‘Hmm … what an interesting suggestion. But why would he come to you and not go to his family? Or perhaps to one of the guards?’

“‘I … don’t know.’

“‘Come with me,’ he said.

“He made me stand at the window overlooking a courtyard. My dear love was tied to a post, while a man stood nearby with a whip. The emperor raised and lowered his hand abruptly. I heard the whip snap in the air and whimpered as if I too could feel the burn of the lash as it tore the back of my love. The emperor whispered coldly, ‘Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your handiwork, my dear? You have bestowed your favor on this man.’ I cringed as I heard the whip crack again.

“‘Please don’t hurt him,’ I begged.

“‘You can stop his torture whenever you wish. Just tell me that I’m mistaken and that this young man did not come for you. That all of this is just a simple misunderstanding. And … say it loudly so that all may hear.’

“I heard the groan of the one I loved and turned to the emperor. ‘This young man—’ “‘Louder, please. And make sure everyone outside can hear you as well.’

“‘This young man did not come for me, and I do not love him! I have no wish to see him harmed! He is just a simple and poor silkmaker. I would never pledge myself to someone so common and impoverished. Please let him go!’

“My love looked up at me; his eyes burning with my betrayal. I longed to shout out that it was a
lie
. That I
did
love him. That I only wanted to be with
him
, but I kept silent, hoping to save his life.

“‘That is all I needed to hear,’ said the emperor. He shouted down to the men, ‘Put him out of his misery.’

“The emperor raised his hand and made another slashing movement in the air. The man with the whip scrambled out of the way for a line of soldiers with bows. They raised their bows and filled my love’s chest full of arrows. He died believing that I didn’t care for him, that I loved him no longer. I fell to the floor in despair while the emperor threatened, ‘Remember this lesson, little bird. I will
not
be made a cuckold. Now … compose yourself for our wedding.’

“When he left, I prostrated myself on the floor and wept bitterly. If only I had trusted what I did not understand. If I had not been such a coward, my love and I might have escaped and lived a happy life together. He had been the horse all along. He had been with me, near me, the whole time, and I refused to see it. Because I was shortsighted, I lost everything.

“Later, a kind woman rested her hand on my shoulder and dried my tears with her silken handkerchief. She said she loved my work and that my gifts could still be used to benefit others. That woman was Durga. She offered to take me away, to help me escape from the emperor, but said that I could never return to a mortal life. She picked up his golden scarf from where I’d dropped it and told me that my silkmaker would always be near, for I had sewn love into each stitch.

“So here I sit. I am Lady Silkworm. Still wrapped in my cocoon of sorrow. Stitching, always stitching. I sew to bind others, but I remain alone. I tie threads together to give my existence meaning, to have a purpose. It does give me some happiness to help others weave their lives together.” She leaned forward. “But I will tell you now, young one, without your love—life is nothing. Without your mate, you are utterly alone.” She dropped her frame and grasped my hands. “Above all else, I beg you to trust the one you love.”