outriders in double rows, followed by servants waving phoenix banners and musicians
playing mournful music. They were followed by long lines of priests who swung lighted
censers of gold, and then by the coffin with the sixty-four bearers that designated a
princess. As the bereaved fiancŽ I had the place of honor, wailing and tearing my hair as
I walked beside the coffin. Next came soldiers from the army of the Ancestress who carried
an immense canopy of phoenix-embroidered yellow silk, and beneath the canopy were bonzes
who pulled twelve bejeweled carts. In each cart, seated in the meditative mudra, was a
lacquered lohan.
The saints were looking down approvingly at the visible signs of the piety and grief of
the Ancestress. She had opened her treasure chambers to provide suitable offerings to the
spirit of the departed, and items of immense value were placed at the lohans' feet. Of
course everyone understood that the Ancestress had no intention of burying her wealth with
Fainting Maid, but the display was customary, and it was also designed to make lesser
mortals turn green with envy. After the burial gifts came four soldiers who were carrying
the state umbrella of the Ancestress, and beneath the umbrella marched her chief eunuch,
who was carrying the great crown of the Sui Dynasty upon a silken pillow. Then came the
great lady herself. An army of servants groaned beneath the crushing weight as they
carried her sedan chair, which was covered with a canopy of phoenix-embroidered yellow
silk, with silver bells at the sides and a golden knob in back.
In case anyone wonders why she used the phoenix symbols of an imperial consort rather than
the dragon symbols of an emperor, the answer is simple. The imperial dragons were
embroidered all over a large silken pillow, and the Ancestress was sitting on it.
I will not describe the ceremony of the burial in detail because I would have to begin
with the 3,300 rules of
chu
etiquette, which would send my readers screaming into the night, but I will mention that
the body of my beloved had been covered with quicksilver and “Dragon's Brains,” and that I
had been quite disappointed when I had discovered that the latter was merely Borneo
camphor.
Fainting Maid could not presume to share the mausoleum with the Ancestress. Like all other
family members, she was buried in the common dirt, in order to spend eternity at the great
lady's feet, and I was required to pour handfuls of dirt over my head and wail like a man
demented as I flung myself upon the grave, while the aristocracy made critical comments
concerning the artistry of my performance. Hooded monks surrounded the grave, banging
bells and gongs and spraying incense in all directions. Their leader had his hands clasped
piously in prayer, or so I thought until his real hands slipped slyly from his robe and
neatly picked the pockets of the Marquis of Tzu.
Henpecked Ho ran around with wild eyes, babbling about evil spirits and demons, and who
could doubt it? Lightning flickered evily in the distance, and terrible things began to
happen. Prince Han Li, for example, was engrossed in a profound theological discussion
with one of the hooded monks, and when the prince was next seen he was lying in a ditch
with a large bump on his head, divested of his purse, jewelry, red leather belt studded
with emeralds, silver-winged cap with white tassels, and knife-pleated white mourning
garment with a gold-threaded design of five-clawed dragons. Screams and roars of rage were
lifting from the pavilions of the wealthy, whose valuable funeral gifts had miraculously
disappeared. Lady Wu, whose beauty was said to rival that of the semilegendary Queen
Feiyen, was carried into the bushes by a creature who had no ears or nose, and whose eyes
were as yellow as his teeth.
We all have our little weaknesses, but I must
playing mournful music. They were followed by long lines of priests who swung lighted
censers of gold, and then by the coffin with the sixty-four bearers that designated a
princess. As the bereaved fiancŽ I had the place of honor, wailing and tearing my hair as
I walked beside the coffin. Next came soldiers from the army of the Ancestress who carried
an immense canopy of phoenix-embroidered yellow silk, and beneath the canopy were bonzes
who pulled twelve bejeweled carts. In each cart, seated in the meditative mudra, was a
lacquered lohan.
The saints were looking down approvingly at the visible signs of the piety and grief of
the Ancestress. She had opened her treasure chambers to provide suitable offerings to the
spirit of the departed, and items of immense value were placed at the lohans' feet. Of
course everyone understood that the Ancestress had no intention of burying her wealth with
Fainting Maid, but the display was customary, and it was also designed to make lesser
mortals turn green with envy. After the burial gifts came four soldiers who were carrying
the state umbrella of the Ancestress, and beneath the umbrella marched her chief eunuch,
who was carrying the great crown of the Sui Dynasty upon a silken pillow. Then came the
great lady herself. An army of servants groaned beneath the crushing weight as they
carried her sedan chair, which was covered with a canopy of phoenix-embroidered yellow
silk, with silver bells at the sides and a golden knob in back.
In case anyone wonders why she used the phoenix symbols of an imperial consort rather than
the dragon symbols of an emperor, the answer is simple. The imperial dragons were
embroidered all over a large silken pillow, and the Ancestress was sitting on it.
I will not describe the ceremony of the burial in detail because I would have to begin
with the 3,300 rules of
chu
etiquette, which would send my readers screaming into the night, but I will mention that
the body of my beloved had been covered with quicksilver and “Dragon's Brains,” and that I
had been quite disappointed when I had discovered that the latter was merely Borneo
camphor.
Fainting Maid could not presume to share the mausoleum with the Ancestress. Like all other
family members, she was buried in the common dirt, in order to spend eternity at the great
lady's feet, and I was required to pour handfuls of dirt over my head and wail like a man
demented as I flung myself upon the grave, while the aristocracy made critical comments
concerning the artistry of my performance. Hooded monks surrounded the grave, banging
bells and gongs and spraying incense in all directions. Their leader had his hands clasped
piously in prayer, or so I thought until his real hands slipped slyly from his robe and
neatly picked the pockets of the Marquis of Tzu.
Henpecked Ho ran around with wild eyes, babbling about evil spirits and demons, and who
could doubt it? Lightning flickered evily in the distance, and terrible things began to
happen. Prince Han Li, for example, was engrossed in a profound theological discussion
with one of the hooded monks, and when the prince was next seen he was lying in a ditch
with a large bump on his head, divested of his purse, jewelry, red leather belt studded
with emeralds, silver-winged cap with white tassels, and knife-pleated white mourning
garment with a gold-threaded design of five-clawed dragons. Screams and roars of rage were
lifting from the pavilions of the wealthy, whose valuable funeral gifts had miraculously
disappeared. Lady Wu, whose beauty was said to rival that of the semilegendary Queen
Feiyen, was carried into the bushes by a creature who had no ears or nose, and whose eyes
were as yellow as his teeth.
We all have our little weaknesses, but I must
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