Licking the Lotus Stamen

I nod respectfully.

"Never before has a woman reigned over a great empire. The Empress expects acknowledgement of her authority and of her gender."

I nod again. I believe that I understand.

"You will find that she governs with wisdom and benevolence. She wishes the happiness and prosperity of her own subjects, but also a harmonious, peaceful and mutually beneficial relationship with neighboring lands. She will listen attentively to your requests and proposals. She will be generous in her response."

I permit myself a hopeful smile, tempered by discretion. Commander Li continues:

"You must follow my instructions very carefully, for although the Empress is benevolent and just, she requires that you follow her protocols. I would not wish for you to become acquainted with her wrath." I nod soberly. "Your presence will be announced to Her Majesty when you arrive at the court. After perhaps a day or two, you will be summoned and permitted to stand in the area below the imperial throne. There you will present to her the requests you wish to make on behalf of your sovereign." Li looks into my eyes to confirm that I understand. I nod.

"If Her Majesty finds favor with what you say, she will call you to her throne. You will ascend to it, always keeping your head lower than hers. You will kneel before her. Then she will part her robes to display her womanhood." Li pauses significantly. I nod once more, assuring him of my rapt attention.

"You will be permitted to lick it."

I venture a response. "The licking of the lotus stamen."

"Yes. You must demonstrate your reverence for her as the sovereign, as well as your admiration for her as a woman. Do not touch Her Majesty with any part of your body except for your mouth. If you please her, you will feel the pressure of her hands on your shoulders. Then you must continue to lick the lotus stamen until Her Majesty reaches a climax. You will know; she is very expressive. If this happens, it is a very favorable sign for the relations between China and Srivijaya."

"I understand." Inside my chest, my heart is beating with strong emotion. We rode in silence for a minute or two.

Cautiously, I ask: "Commander Li, may I know whether you have ever licked the lotus stamen?"

I'm surprised to see the commander break out in a wry smile. It is the first time he has relaxed his austere military bearing. "I'm sorry to say that I am not of high enough rank to receive such a request. But I have provided similar services to the common women in Pingkangli. I am pleased to honor women in this way."

He grins. Then, like a visor coming down, the commander's decorum returns. He inclines his head courteously, then rides to the front of the column to once again take his place as leader.

I have been on a ship at sea during a storm. I have known the combination of terror and awe at the magnificence of the gigantic churning waters. I feel that way now, but this is so different, not a vast frenzy of activity and noise, but something absolutely silent and motionless. And it is not nature that did this, but humans, many thousands of humans.

Everywhere there are figures of the Buddha. Some are giants, some are as tiny as tree frogs. They are carved in cool stone, in huge grottoes inside the mountains, and on the face of the mountains themselves. The Buddha is clearly very important to the Chinese. These figures repeat themselves as far as my vision will reach. Plump serene forms are everywhere, as if every star in the heavens has become a smiling statue.

We have been riding for several days, and we are drawing near to Luoyang, but first, Commander Li has brought us to this place. Perhaps he wishes to impress us with the achievements of his mighty land, or perhaps he is a follower of the Buddha and wishes us to commune with these images before we are permitted to have an audience with the Empress. I believe that Li is a good and reliable man, but he is very formal in his dealings with me. In my own land, things are less complicated.

Li appears at my side. With gestures, he directs me to follow him until we are standing before the largest of the Buddhas, ten times the size of a man. It sits upon a sort of stage, hacked into the side of the mountain. "The Empress caused this to be carved," he says. "It bears her face." I step back, attempting to get a good vantage of the Buddha-head towering above me. The face is elegant and enigmatic. I can feel my pulse accelerate just a little.

I watch my guards as they wander silently among the statues, struck dumb with wonder. Sang is smiling at the sight of so many Buddhas. Meanwhile, the Chinese soldiers remain still and alert, until Li shouts something terse to them in their language, and we all move to mount our horses and resume our journey.

It is evening now, and we are crossing the threshold into Luoyang. It is a beautiful city, with grand dwellings and gardens everywhere. The buildings are brightly painted, the colors of rust and wine. The roofs are sea-colored and scalloped like shellfish. The day has been very long; I am certain that it is dark night in Srivijaya right now. But here, the light is only now growing dim, the air is soft with a refreshing breeze. The people are in the streets, talking in their language that reminds me of cats, wearing their many layers of bright robes. I try to imagine what the Empress will look like.

As we ride through the streets, people recognize Li and call out to him. He seems to enjoy popularity among the people who dwell in Luoyang. His men seem happy. This city must be home to them.

Sang brings his dark horse alongside mine. "I came to this city with Yijing, chief," he says confidentially. "There are thousands of people here attached to the court. Their hearts are proud, but their bowels are uneasy, because intrigues are constantly breeding. No one enjoys an easy sleep." He gestures to the statues of Buddha, which are abundant along the street where we ride. "That is why many people here seek the Buddha. Only a few find him." In the waning light I consider the many scars on Sang's arms and shoulders that testify to his experience as a warrior. Yet for the most part he strikes me as a serene soul. Perhaps he has succeeded in finding the Buddha, whatever that may mean.

We are riding down a wide street with impressive buildings on either side, and I am becoming aware that the size of our party is growing. People along the streets are joining us and walking alongside the horses. Are we celebrities? Has the news of the delegation from Srivijaya preceded us to Luoyang? I study the people around us, and it dawns on me that they are following Commander Li. Although I do not understand their language, I recognize his name when they speak it. He must be important in some way to those who dwell in this city.

The street is swollen with people now, and suddenly another group of riders in military garb appear, coming from the opposite direction. Their leader shouts in an authoritative voice; the riders in our our contingent come to a halt, and the people in the street become silent. The man shouts again, and the people begin to disperse. I see Sang to my right, and I speak quietly to him, asking him to translate what the man has said.

"Not much, chief. He just told the people that they should be home with their families and not out at night, behaving frivolously. I don't really understand what just happened."

The streets are empty and quiet now. Sang touches my arm and points to something in the distance. It is the largest building I have ever seen. "The palace of the Empress," he says. I am excited -- we are drawing nearer to it. It sits on a massive stone base that slopes inward like a pyramid. The palace, with its sloping roofs that reach for the four points of the compass, gleams with golden trim. But then I am disappointed, as our procession turns away from the palace onto a side street.

Soon we stop before a large and well-appointed building, and Li directs us to dismount. Servants emerge from the building to gather our belongings while others attend to our horses. We are escorted inside, and a gracious young man who does not understand my language guides me to a room with a bed, where I gratefully lie down. Soon I fall into a deep sleep, dreaming ambiguous dreams about the Empress.

At last. Two days have gone by, and I have finally been summoned to stand before the Empress. We have been well cared-for; a man was found who could speak our Srivijayan tongue, and he answered our questions and took us to explore the city. But there was one question he could not answer: when will I see the Empress? And now I know that answer: I will see her this afternoon.

I have bathed and put on my finest clothing. In my mind I have rehearsed the details of the trade agreements I was instructed to offer. Commander Li visited our apartments this morning and sat down with me to explain, in greater detail, the correct way to conduct myself during the meeting. Once again, he explained that the Empress may call me to kneel before her, and that she will then display her womanhood. I tried not to seem impatient or over-eager as I asked how likely it is that she might do that at today's meeting. Li simply inclined his head and shrugged enigmatically. I could feel my heart beating.

At mid-day a representative of the court comes to escort me to the palace of the Empress. He speaks Srivijayan and is very courteous. He is called Hao.

My men have assembled in their good dress clothing, and they flank me as Hao leads us down the street and into the main avenue, where the palace is visible in the distance. It is so big that it seems like an illusion, a mirage of sorts. On either side of the avenue are beautiful and imposing structures which I think may be government offices. They are all painted in various shades of deep red, with green curving roofs.

As we approach the palace, it seems more and more unreal to me, until we are ascending the stairs, passing through the gates, traversing several hallways, and finally emerging into the court, which is so large as to seem an entire world unto itself. It seems to be made almost entirely of gold; it is twelve-sided, with columns covered in russet-colored silk at the points where the sides join. At the highest point, a circular window admits the rays of the sun, which dance upon the brilliant gold which adorns every surface. My men and I are directed to stand over to the right side, facing the throne.

And she is there! I am finally seeing her with my own eyes.

She is dressed in robes of brilliant scarlet with gold embroidery everywhere. Her headdress is elaborate but graceful, A small dragon made of gold perches on the apex, with chopstick-like structures extending outward to support hanging strings of delicate glass beads that catch the sunlight from the windows.

We are standing at some distance from her, but I am trying to look upon her face to see what is in her heart. I cannot be sure, but she seems to bear a mien of serene, confident authority, and a hint of humor. Is that really there? It is hard to be certain from so far away.

I cannot reliably say how old she is. I think she is perhaps old enough for her first-born to have reached adulthood, but she is very beautiful. She is also very desirable, although most men would never permit themselves to think of her that way.

Now another woman comes and speaks confidentially into the ear of the Empress. This woman is much younger, and also very beautiful, with gleaming black hair, her own elaborate headdress, and robes of sea green with embroidered gold stars. As she speaks, the Empress' eyes survey the room, until her gaze comes to light on me and my men. Perhaps just on me.

The younger woman walks to the edge of the platform and calls out to us in Srivijayan, "Approach." We approach the platform, but when we are five paces away, she calls out again: "Enough." We stop, and assemble ourselves before bowing in unison to the Empress.

The younger woman knows which one I am. Speaking directly to me, she says, "Ambassador Buana, please take one step forward." I rise and take one step, while allowing myself to look full into the face of the Empress. She has cultivated an impassive gaze for these occasions, but I believe that I still see that combination of regal serenity and sly mirth that I thought I had seen from across the hall.

The younger woman says, "Speak, and her majesty will consider deeply what the ambassador says." Then she moves back to the side of the Empress, and as I speak, she translates.

I relay the salutations from Dapunta Hyang Sri Jayanasa, which I have committed to memory, then deliver the offers of trade from his court. The Empress watches my face carefully as I speak. She knows that these words are not my own, that they are words that I am simply sent to say on behalf of he whom I represent, yet she seems to be looking for something hidden in my face. As I speak, I am joyful that I have a reason to look so openly into the face of the Empress. Will she call me to kneel before her?

I have concluded my message. The Empress motions for the younger woman to draw close, and speaks quietly to her. The younger woman then comes back to the edge of the platform, and addresses me: "The Empress will hear more tomorrow."

I am initially disappointed, but then I think that perhaps this is an encouraging sign. It is said that many visitors come and go without being called upon to lick the lotus stamen. A second meeting could mean that the Empress has found me worthy of closer examination.

Then the woman speaks again: "She has directed me to discuss the trade proposal with the Srivijayan ambassador in more detail. But first, we will feast."

Attendants materialize and shepherd us through another series of hallways into the grand dining hall. As we are walking, Hao makes his way to my side and inquires discreetly, "Do you know who that woman is? The one with whom you will meet this evening?"

I confess that I do not.

"That is Shangguan Wan'er, the personal secretary to Her Majesty. She is also a brilliant poetess."

Poetry interests me, although of course I could not understand it in Chinese. But Hao seems excited by this development with the woman, and I need to know why.

"Esteemed Hao," I ask, "do you think that this bodes well for my trade mission?"

He nods soberly. "Yes. She is a very important person at the court. If you make your case well to her, she has the ear of Her Majesty."

This reminds me of another problem which I must address. Normally my duties as diplomat require me to conduct myself in a dignified fashion, and accurately relay the message which I have carefully memorized. But it appears that the message was unclear or incomplete, because the Empress requires more information from me. I wonder whether I will know the answers to her questions.

We have been seated now, and attendants have brought food. It is foreign to my palate, but pleasing. I think that they must be showing off the vast variety of foodstuffs that they can quickly acquire through trade, because of their magnificent roads. From the coastal regions there is jellyfish cooked with cinnamon. They have roasted a two-humped camel, and served it with hazelnuts, pine nuts, chestnuts, and other seed-like things which are unfamiliar to me. They also serve tea with great ceremony. Musicians are playing instruments that keen and warble in intriguing and affecting ways -- some people have shed tears at one of the melodies that was played a few minutes ago.

We have finished eating, but the musical entertainment continues. Hao appears silently beside me and beckons; I follow. My men remain to enjoy the hospitality of the court.

I accompany Hao through some hallways and up a grand staircase, then into a small room with cushions, a table, and luxurious wall hangings. Moments later Shangguan Wan'er enters. She is now dressed in robes of gold, and she smiles, which catches me by surprise. Involuntarily, I smile back.

She is accompanied by one attendant, an older woman who is also dressed in fine robes, but in muted colors. The three of us seat ourselves around the table, and Wan'er begins to speak.

"Her Majesty has asked me to welcome you to China and to Luoyang. She wishes to know whether you have enjoyed the musical entertainment tonight."

This is more elaborate courtesy than I usually receive. I respond:

"Yes, I found that it stirred my emotions in a very pleasing way."

Wan'er exchanges glances with her attendant, and nods just perceptibly in a way that suggests approval. Then she turns to me and continues:

"Thank you, Ambassador Buana. Her Majesty also wishes to know whether you enjoy poetry."

This is very strange. I had expected questions about my proffer of trade, which seemed to be incomplete in Her Majesty's eyes. I must be careful, so as not to cause offense. I answer, very sincerely:

"I regret that I my inability to read or understand your language prevents me from understanding the words of your poets, which I am certain must be very beautiful. In my own land, I have seen the poems of Kumaradasa, those available to me in my own language. Those poems have touched my heart." I hesitate and clear my throat now. "Esteemed Madame Shangguan, I wish to provide you with whatever information you may require, to clarify the inadequacies of the report I carry from my sovereign, Dapunta Hyang Sri Jayanasa."

To my surprise, a quick burst of melodious laughter escapes Wan'er's lips, and although her attendant remains impassive, there is a twinkle in her eye as well.

"Ambassador Buana, I must apologize. There has been a misunderstanding. Your trade proposal was perfectly clear. But our Empress governs in ways that are unlike those of other sovereigns. Please do not forget that she is a woman. She has asked me to learn what kind of man you are."

Again I am surprised, but I am struggling to master my emotions, and to present to these two women a courteous and dignified face. I am also trying to read what is in Wan'er's eyes. I thought for a moment that I saw the kind of interest that a woman displays toward a man whom she desires as a lover. Is it possible that the Empress is considering whether to ask me to lick the lotus stamen, and that she has asked Wan'er to evaluate my manhood? Perhaps. But if that were the case, why would she ask about poetry? I would expect a contest of arms, or some other test of manly virtue.

I believe I have studied Wan'er's face for a few seconds too long; I can see her reacting, perhaps she guesses what is in my mind. I must remember to be courteous; it is the essence of my profession. I have been entrusted with great responsibility.

Wan'er says, "Did you know, Ambassador Buana, that the Empress herself writes poetry?"

I widen my eyes in appreciation. "The Empress is a mighty and learned sovereign."

Wan'er nods graciously to acknowledge my praise. "In the government of the Empress," she says, "learning is prized. Members of her government must pass an examination called jinshi to demonstrate that they are able to write poetry, as well as write learned responses to questions on the philosophy of government." She smiles. "The Empress wishes to have a government of the wise as well as the strong."

When she speaks of passing an examination, I am very alert. I hope that she will speak of licking the lotus stamen, which is very much on my mind, along with my official duties as ambassador. But I am the master of my emotions now. Wan'er sees in my eyes that I am attentive and I understand what she is telling me. She continues.

"Do you wish to hear a fragment of the Empress' poetry, in your own language?"

I incline my head respectfully. "Of course."