A poem on the wall left by a Princess


The whole cavalcade s dressed in red”: red, the auspicious colour for a bridal procession.
I am the bride, a princess no less, at least in name.
I should be happy. From the niece of the current emperor, I was promoted to be an Imperial princess: Princess Yi-fang.  And I am to marry a king.  Can any girl wish for a more blessed life?
I can only sigh when I think of all these.
The wind has stopped and the captain of my escort asks me the permission to make a brief stop at the Xu Chi Courier Station. I nod to give my approval.  The captain is deferential but I know what he is thinking.  His only wish is to have me delivered with my eighty maidens-in-waiting to my future husband.  Once done, he will make haste to return to his young wife in Chang An, the capital of the Tang Empire.  The land of the Kumo Xi is not a safe place to linger, even for the soldiers of the mighty Tang Empire.
I am the third princess to be married to a king of the Kumo-Xi tribe.  The other two are both my cousins.  I should use the term “were” as they were both dead now, cause of death unknown.  It is the custom of the Tang Emperor to give out his “daughters” as brides for vassal kings as a reward for allegiance.  We know better.  We are no better than hostages and lives for hostages do not worth much.  This is the one of the reasons the Emperor never sent his own daughters as brides.  Instead, he chooses a suitable girl of marriageable age among the related princely families to serve the Empire.
My mother was a true princess.  She was the daughter of the former Emperor who was supposed to be poisoned by his own Empress and youngest daughter, Princess Anle, said to be the most beautiful women in the Tang Empire then.  She was later killed in a palace coup, her head, as well as her mother the Empress’s was hanged high near a temple.  
They say I take after the looks of Anle, my aunt, a dazzling but unsettling beauty.  This is one of the reasons why I am now sent away.  

The Emperor was all smiling when he bade farewell to his “daughter”.  My mother wept, but only behind the silk screen so that none would see it.  She knew she would not see me again this life-time.  I knew the chance of my returning to Chang An was at most, slim.

Xu Chi Courier Station qualifies for the term “rudimentary”.  Four bare walls, a simple room for rest and a stable with several horses for relaying important messages.  At least the horses are well-groomed.  There are courier stations all around the empire so that urgent messages, mainly military in nature, can be relayed to Chang An within the shortest period. From the window of the room, I look south-west, in the direction of Chang An.
It is the third month of the year.  Snow has just melted and the weeping willows should draw their first sprouts.  Chang An will be so beautiful in a month’s time. Poets will sing to its beauty.  Scholars from all corners of the Empire will gather there and prepare for the coming examination, the only route to achieve their aspiration of becoming a petty official in service of the emperor.  The courtesans in Bei Li district will put on their best dresses and decorate themselves with flowers, enticing patrons with their purses laden with silver pieces.  Some of these patrons come from lands faraway places; their names exotic to our tongues. They come as emissaries, as merchants, as visiting monks, all eager to learn from the glorious Tang Empire and bring knowledge and culture back to their native lands. I can envision their threading through the broad avenues of the capital, looking dazed at the intimidating palaces, the august Buddhist temples, the market with commodities brought in from east and west.  Young men turn their heads to take another gaze at a dancing girl with green eyes and dressed in the revealing costume fashionable along the Silk Road, paladins riding tall stallions, swords in gemmed scabbards at their sides, seeking adventure or service into the military.   Come summer and the capital will be thrown into a frenzy as the peony flowers bloom in force.  Garden parties will be organized amid the myriad of floral splendor.  I should be invited to these...

Should be…

I have to bite my lower lip so as not to utter any sobbing sound.  It is beneath the dignity of a princess to sob in front of her maids-in-waiting. But I cannot stop the tears and the aching in my heart.  

Once, I have dreamed of being married into one of the noble families, to a husband who will recite his latest poems to me and I will reply in kind.  Together we can take walks in the capital, disguised as a common couple.  We can go watch the lanterns on the night of the fifteenth day in a new year when Chang An would not enforce its nightly curfew.  We can talk a cruise on the Qu Jiang, where newly successful candidates from the annual examination will celebrate in style as is the custom. We can hold our own private parties in our garden: a full moon, a flask of rice wine and delicacies bestowed by the Emperor on festive days.  We can…

Some said that I am now doing better than all these: I am now a full princess and marrying a king!  They smile because now that I am chosen, their daughters are safe, until the Emperor has use of another “hostage”.

The walls are bare, rough and mocking.

I ask for brush and ink and begin to put my feelings on the wall:

出嫁辭鄉國 由來此別悲 聖恩愁遠道 行路泣相看
沙塞容顏盡 邊隅粉黛殘 妾心何所斷 他日望長安.

Today I leave my native land to marry
Sorrowful is my heart for this parting
His Majesty has bestowed his blessings and gifts
I can only look back with tears
In this barren land, my looks will soon be gone
There is no other wish I have
That one day, I may lay my eyes again on my beloved Chang An

“My lady, it is time for us to continue.”

It is the captain. I smile and nod.
For him, every step brings him closer to a return journey.
I broad my carriage and let down the curtains. It is beneath the dignity of a princess to let them see me weep.

We arrive at the land of the Kumo-Xi.
It is even worse than my wildest fear.  
The so called kingdom is no better than a horde of barbarians, uncultured, fierce and blood-thirsty.
The wedding is no different from a rape.
The proof of my deflowering is shown to my husband’s people in form of a blood-stained cloth. It was followed by wild cheering and feasting and copulation in public view.  
The captain could not hide his relief when he could start the return journey.
“My Lady, take good care.  We may meet again in Chang An one day,” he said.
I smiled, a sad one.
I knew he did not believe that himself.

I wedded in the third month of the year
The marriage did not last very long.
In the ninth month, the Kumo-Xi rebelled against the Tang.  All the eighty maidens I brought with me were slaughtered, like pigs.  I, as wife of their king, was given better treatment. I would be sacrificed by having my throat slit so that their banners would dip into my blood to pray for victory.
My calmness at taking this took them by surprise. They had expected shrieks of terror.  
They do not understand that inside me, my heart has died long ago.  I am sad as I will not see my beloved Chang an again.  But I am glad it will soon be over and I do not have to endure it any longer.
They undressed me and let me put on only a robe, made from hide of a white calf.  Underneath it, I am naked and this will be the state I am to die as they will take away the hide on the altar-platform.  They will use the golden goblet, one of the gifts given to me for my wedding by the Emperor, to receive my blood.
In the blast of the horns and low humming of snake-skin drums, I walk towards the shaman with a terrifying mask on his face.  In his hand is a greenish sacrificial dagger. I take a deep breath and walk up the platform.  There, they removed the hide .
“Kneel!” The shaman shouts.
“In which direction is Chang an?” I ask.
He points, with his dagger.
I kneel and facing the direction he indicates, I offer my throat…

(End)

Post-script.

Marrying off “princesses” to leaders of barbarian tribes to buy allegiance has been a long tradition in China.  It looks a relatively cheap price to pay for peace.  While some princesses meet better fate than Princess Yi-fang, the policy rarely really worked as once their demand was met, the alien tribes would demand more and more.  Once they felt not satisfied, war would result.  When war came, the life of the hostage would not be any concern.  After all, they were not actual daughters of His Majesty and they were serving the interest of the Empire with their marriages and deaths.

The poem Princess Yi-fang survived. It was collected into the anthology of Tang Poems.  There were more than forty thousand poems collected but this, the only one by her, was written with tears and later, blood.  

The Kumo-Xi was soon pacified when the Emperor sent a capable Sogdian general.
He kept peace at the frontier for ten years.  Then, in AD 755, ten years after Princess Yi-fang was sacrificed, he rebelled and marched at the head of his army of which the Kuma-Xi were part of, into Chang An.  The glory days of the Tang Empire was gone forever.  That Sogdian general was called An Lushan.

A famous poet once wrote:

“How foolish it was to hope for peace by just sending a beauty?
If that can work, why do we have to pay our general?”