Mistress of The Jade Ambrosia

"I am still frightened of him. What should I do?"

"It is the assince that does it. Sometimes, it causes delusions. Whenever the Emperor requests the drink, dilute it with something weaker. He may experience painful withdrawals at first, but eventually his system will reorder itself and he'll return to normal."

"What might he do in a withdrawal...?"

"The most common symptom is erratic behaviour," the apothecary said. On seeing Yang's reaction, Shihuangdi continued. "The withdrawals might last a few months. Keep your distance and do everything you can to assuage him. He will be as good as ever in due course."

Yang gave Shihuangdi a small bow. "I thank you for this sage advice." Unconvinced, Yang turned and walked from Shihuangdi's home. The apothecary might be happy to give advice, but he wasn't with Hsüan-Tsung's every day. If anyone was likely to have imperial assassins visit during the night, it was Yang Guifei.

Another summons from the Emperor. Yang was becoming increasingly frightened every time the Emperor called for her. It wasn't only a matter of the violent moods that sometimes engulfed him or his occasional sombre melancholies, but the elaborate network of traps surrounding his chambers. The Emperor often didn't bother to inform members of the imperial court of new traps. Two nights ago, a cook had died bringing a meal of roast pork stuffed with spring onions and vegetables to the Emperor. Hsüan-Tsung claimed the cook had been an assassin sent to murder him.

Yang would have felt better had two of the imperial harem not already succumbed to the Emperor's traps. No one in the palace – not even a concubine – was safe and the amount of time Yang spent with Hsüan-Tsung meant he was likely to eventually blame her for some imaginary crime. While Yang would have loved to flee the palace and head for the mountains in the west, the odds that the Emperor's men would catch her were great.

As always, Yang carried the jade ambrosia with her to the Emperor's quarters. She had poured about one-quarter of the assince from each bottle and replaced it with water. Yang didn't know if the Emperor would notice what she had done, but anything was better than seeing his addiction remain.

Hsüan-Tsung had started to neglect some of his duties over the past weeks. Always a dynamic man, it was distressing to see justice not served in the imperial court and the Emperor plummet from the brave and meticulous sovereign he'd once been to a drunken and embarrassing sot. Of course, no one said anything to the Emperor's face.

The Emperor sat in a room by the clear azure water of a mosaic-lined pool. He ate fruit off a platter in front of him and seemed quite relaxed. Upon hearing Yang enter, he looked Yang's way and stared at her. Then, without warning, the expression on his face became a glower. He pointed his right index finger. "You. It is natural for an emperor to expect betrayal, but from you?" Hsüan-Tsung almost choked on a grape.

"This one does not understand," Yang said meekly.

"You understand very well," the Emperor hissed. "So many people have been trying to kill me lately, wanting to depose me and steal the throne. I trusted you, my little green fairy. I thought you would always be loyal." Hsüan-Tsung grinned, and it was then that Yang knew insanity had claimed him. "The jade ambrosia taught me to open my mind. You didn't introduce your sisters to the harem because you thought I would love them as I love you; you brought them from that hovel of a village you once called home because it would increase your power."

A sheet covered the divan upon which Hsüan-Tsung sat. Grabbing the sheet and twisting it into a primitive noose, he approached Yang. The concubine didn't move. If she ran, she would almost certainly trigger a trap. Hsüan-Tsung would scream for the palace guards and order her killed on the spot. With the guards' axes and pikes, her death was likely to be far messier than if an imperial assassin strangled her. Most concubines and mistresses would have given up by now, accepting their fate and the life they had lived. Yang wouldn't give up until the last vestiges of strength fled her body.

"For high treason and conspiring to commit regicide, I sentence you to death by strangulation." Hsüan-Tsung draped the sheet around Yang's throat. It tightened.

Yang fought back. She kneed Hsüan-Tsung in the groin and he suddenly relaxed his grip on the sheet, his expression one of utter pain. The Emperor shrieked and Yang quickly knelt and picked up one of the assince phials she had dropped. Yang held the Emperor's nose and tilted back his head, pouring the liquid down his throat. Much of the jade ambrosia spilled from either corner of Hsüan-Tsung's lips, but when Yang let him go he stumbled forward then collapsed on the floor, vomiting mucus and blood.

Yang stared at the platter she had dropped. The phial she picked up had survived the fall, but the other had shattered on impact with the hard mosaics. Tiny chips of glass covered the phial of assince she had forced the Emperor to drink. Yang stared at the Emperor. Again, he vomited blood. Those pieces of glass were ripping his throat and stomach lining. There was an excellent chance he might recover, but Yang would certainly lose her life if he did.

A sliver of glass pricked Yang's finger and she yelped in pain. Carefully picking the glass from her fingertip and tossing it on the floor, Yang threw the phial at the Emperor. It struck him on the shoulder. He stared up at her, his expression loathsome. Yang took a couple of steps back. The guards would come when they began to suspect something was amiss and though Hsüan-Tsung had grown progressively more incompetent over the past weeks, it was unlikely they would blame him for anything. The guards would hold responsible the last person to have entered Hsüan-Tsung's presence: Yang.

Fleeing into the city was too dangerous. A commoner might recognise her and return her to the palace, or worse, a slave trader might abduct her and sell her to a faraway noble. She had spent many years rising to a position of authority in the imperial court and she had no wish to repeat the process. Returning to her chambers would also be foolish. Even if Hsüan-Tsung died, Yang was almost certain the palace guards would blame his death on her. When the executioners came, her death would be swift and deadly. Yang had no wish to die. There was really only one place she could go.

Shihuangdi looked confused when he opened the door to welcome her. Beckoning her inside, the apothecary asked, "What seems to be the matter?"

Glancing over her shoulders, Yang entered the house. Should the palace guards come for her, Shihuangdi would be able to give them a medical explanation for what happened to Hsüan-Tsung. Shihuangdi was a powerful figure at court and while he could not directly contravene the Emperor's orders, his words would at least make the guards pause. Crying now, Yang fled to a low divan and sprawled across it. Sobs racked her body.

The old apothecary sat opposite her. Yang watched him. Lifting a porcelain cup sitting on the table dividing them, Shihuangdi sipped at the steaming tea. "Child, you must tell me what is happening."

There was a risk that Shihuangdi would report her to the palace, but Yang had no better option. It was a gamble. Inhaling deeply, Yang told the apothecary everything that had happened. He listened with the quite patience of apothecaries everywhere and didn't offer advice or opinions during her tale, for which Yang was thankful. Yang was surprised at how coolly she explained what had happened and after a short while her tale ended. There was silence in the home.

"Reasoning won't help," Shihuangdi mused. "Especially if the Emperor is still alive. I fear you have dug a grave from which there may be no escape."

"Can't you use medicine to explain what happened to him?" Yang was desperate.

"I could certainly do so, but if the palace brings in other apothecaries during its investigation... I am a wealthy man now, Yang, and I would like to help the one who made me wealthy. But I can't honestly say that helping you prove you didn't murder or intend harm to the Emperor is worth my life."

Yang felt some of her anger and passion return. She sat, and then stood. Her words were as stiff as her posture. "You gave me the assince; you are responsible for what has happened. And I shall tell everyone in Chang'an the role you played."

"It will be my word against yours. Who do you think people will believe?"

It was a challenge to which Yang had no rebuttal. Shihuangdi was a powerful figure at court and with Yang's recent fall from the Emperor's graces, others were more likely to place faith in his words than hers. Yang was losing the game. She might be losing slowly and through no fault of her own, but random events were what made a living game of chaturanga so interesting.

Yang had no more time to philosophise, for there was suddenly a hammering on the door. "In the name of the Emperor, open up!"

Yang grew wide-eyed. "I must hide!"

"I will tell them where you are," the apothecary said.

Yang considered climbing from a window and escaping into the city, but she doubted if she would make it through the palace gates. Her weight would encumber her and the palace guards were both fast and strong. She would cease running now.

Shihuangdi opened the door. Two palace guards entered bearing halberds. Their eyes locked on Yang. "The Emperor is dead. We believe he consumed too much assince, but he gave a last command." The guard who spoke looked at Yang. "To kill you." Halberds raised, the guards approached...

There was only one move left. Tossing herself onto the wooden floor, tears flooded Yang's eyes. The guards paused for a moment, but they lifted their halberds in preparation to obey Emperor Hsüan-Tsung's final decree. "I am with the Emperor's child!" Yang cried.

Legs open, Yang lay on the bed and bit down on the piece of seaman's rope the apothecary had given her. Perspiration beaded on her forehead as she watched Shihuangdi work expertly to deliver the child. A midwife stood in attendance, her expression one of utter fear. There had been a small war of succession after Emperor Hsüan-Tsung's death and a time when supporting any faction was dangerous. A capable leader, Yang had quashed the rebellions and instigated martial law in Chang'an until everything returned to normal.

Yang hadn't been pregnant when the Emperor died and no one knew Shihuangdi was the father of Yang's child. It was the only way Yang could ensure her safety: she carried the Emperor's heir and would be his regent until he attained his majority. Shihuangdi was the only man Yang could trust to father the child. Others might be tempted to betray her for love or money, but Shihuangdi had something to hide. The popularity of the jade ambrosia had waned after Emperor Hsüan-Tsung's death but many would still wish the old apothecary dead if they uncovered the truth.

Yang slumped on the bed. She heard the baby's piercing screams and knew she had given birth. "Is it a boy?" she whispered.

"Yes." Shihuangdi held the baby up so that she might look at it. It was hideous. It had two arms, but the stump of another grew from its lower right torso. Scaly plates covered part of its face and one of its legs looked mangled beyond repair.

"What is... it?"

Shihuangdi turned to the midwife. "Jiang, may you leave us?"

The midwife was happy to obey.

The apothecary turned back to Yang. "The Franks give assince to dogs to stop them breaking wind, but they never allow bitches who drink the assince to whelp because the puppies often come out deformed. I thought it might be different with humans..."

"You made me pregnant when you knew this might happen! How could you?" Yang screamed and kicked at the sheets, but little strength remained in her body. She had lost blood during the birth and dizziness soon began to overwhelm her.

Setting the baby in a cot by the bed, Shihuangdi came to her. He unstoppered the small earthenware phial he carried. "Here, drink this. It is milk of the poppy."

Yang had tasted milk of the poppy before, and this mix tasted different from the others. She let the milk of the poppy swirl on her tongue. There was a bitter flavour to it and the hint of something stronger. Assince. Shihuangdi wanted to control her. The assince would keep her compliant while Shihuangdi gathered power to himself like a farmer scythes wheat. It was for this reason that Shihuangdi had allowed her to drink assince during her birth; her son's appearance would undermine her authority as imperial regent and the nobility's belief in him as the next Emperor.

Undoubtedly the old apothecary had followers, as no conspirator worked alone. Yang allowed herself a triumphant smile. She would allow them to think the assince had made her and her son puppets to their designs, but she would surprise them. When her son was old enough, it would only take a word in his ear – and they would all die. THE END.

RECIPES

The 'Zing'

Four parts lemon juice

One part absinthe

1 tablespoon sugar

Yang Guifei's Ambrosia

Two parts absinthe

Two parts Tia Maria

One part Frangelico

Punnet of ripe mulberries

* Use absinthe as a base. Add Tia Maria and Frangelico. Blend mulberries for approximately twenty seconds, add to drink. Serve chilled.

The Favorite Absinthe-Based Drink of the Chinese Emperor Shihuangdi (or Shihuangdi's Nectar)

One part absinthe

Juice of four limes

• Use absinthe as a base. Add the lime juice. To zest it up, add the rind of one of the limes.

Absinthe on the Rocks

Five parts water

One part absinthe

Tube ice

* Allow to chill for one minute before drinking