Read by Lin Sagovsky
“I am dying.” The Emperor is seated atop a vast throne that shimmers in fitful torchlight. Two fleshy eunuchs, naked except for loincloths, fan him with slow, steady strokes.
“The Emperor’s soul is eternal,” says the Wise Man prostrated before the seated figure, his forehead pressed to the cold marbled floor. “We are told this in the Old Stories. The Emperor shall live forever in the Palace of the Most Honourable Ancestors, to be reunited with your father and his father before him, and all our Emperors right back to the First Emperor Most High.”
The Wise Man remains prostrate before his Emperor.
“I have been thinking of my time as Emperor. I have achieved much. I have amassed gold and silver and diamonds and rubies in such abundance …” he gestures limply around the sumptuous throne room. “I have enslaved my enemies, expanded our borders, crushed insurrection. I have had wives by the score and concubines innumerable. I have sired such sons and daughters that I know not the true size of my clan.”
“Your Excellency has led a fine and wondrous life and his subjects are fortunate to have such a wise and virtuous leader.”
“And yet, and yet….” The Emperor coughs and a gobbet of sputum falls awkwardly from his lips into a bejeweled spittoon.
“Your Excellency?”
“As a warrior and a leader and a man of action, I am unaccustomed to contemplation. I have relied on you, Wise Man, to give me true guidance in such matters, with your learned retellings of the Old Stories. But, as my span in this world nears an end, I have become afflicted by introspection and by doubt. I have lived a great life, but…” here he pauses and tugs at his beard, “…have I been loved?”
“Your Excellency’s subjects are devoted.”
“But how can I know it?”
“When they regard the statues of His Excellency that adorn our great parks and line our avenues and boulevards, or the images of His Excellency that hang in every home in the land, love shines undimmed from the eyes of all His Excellency’s subjects.”
“I have never looked into the eyes of my subjects. It has long been decreed that all must wear cowls to hide their faces from me, or prostrate themselves at my feet when they address me.”
The Wise Man recalls the imperial edict: no one, save the Emperor’s wives and the imperial eunuchs, may raise their head in the presence of His Excellency. Even the Emperor’s closest generals must remain visored before Him.
“Do you know when I last looked into another man’s face? When I was six years old and I saw the light fade from my father’s eyes. That was the last time, some threescore years ago.”
“Ordinary men must die should they look into His Excellency’s eyes.”
“I know it.”
“But what of your women and your eunuchs, Excellency?”
“I wish to know of men, not women or eunuchs. Women are nothing to me and eunuchs still less. In the eyes of wives and concubines I have seen nothing other than awe. In the eyes of eunuchs, nothing but stupidity and fear.” The corpulent retinue of eunuchs stationed around the throne room exchange uneasy glances. “Tell me of men’s eyes, Wise Man.”
“Excellency, the man whose eyes are brown like the soil, is a man of practical persuasion, good with his hands and strong of physique; such a man may earn his keep as a stonemason, a farmer, a cartwright. The man whose eyes are blue like the sky, is a man of philosophical inclination and is agile of thought; such a man may turn his mind to mathematics, astrology, architecture.”
“But I have eyes of green. What does this speak of my character?”
“The green-eyed man is the most rare and special of all mankind. He is such a man who combines the practical with the philosophical. Like a tree he is rooted in the soil, but is reaching always to the heavens. Such a man is destined to be great. Such a man is blessed.”
“You are indeed wise, for so it is. And you Wise Man? Your eyes?”
“Green, like His Excellency’s.”
The Emperor’s busted lungs wheeze into weak laughter. “Haha! I knew it. Of course!” The laughter falters, and becomes a coughing. He spits again, missing the spittoon and red-flecked phlegm drops wetly to the floor. “How long have you been Wise Man to The Emperor now?”
“Nearly all my life. I was summoned to court when I was just a boy. I was parted from my family and my village before I was eight summers old.”
The Emperor smiles benevolently. “And do you remember why it was I summoned you?”
“I warned my village of the coming rains. We were able to gather our possessions and livestock and make for the hills.”
“You saved your village from destruction. You have the gift.”
“Your Excellency, by tending the animals I came to understand them.”
“That is wisdom indeed! And you have always given me great service. In every battle you have advised upon, we have been victorious.”
“Your Excellency is undefeated in battle.”
“With the aid of your wisdom.”
The throne room is silent for a moment, save for the soft sweep of the eunuchs’ fans through the air. The Wise Man shuffles on his knees, stretches his toes. A pain nags between his shoulders. “I am at your service Your Excellency. What would you have of me?”
The Emperor tugs his beard again. “Do you miss your family, your village?”
The Wise Man struggles to keep his voice even and measured. “It is an honour to serve in the imperial court for such a benevolent master.” He has had no contact with his family for nearly forty years.
“Wise Man, do you…” he pauses, struggling for the words. “Do you love me?”
“All Your Excellency’s subjects love the Emperor.”
The Emperor slaps a bony hand against the gilt arm of his throne. “No Wise Man! You! You! Do you love me? Let me hear you say it.”
“I love you, Your Excellency.”
“Wise Man, rise that I may look into your eyes.”
“Your Excellency, I cannot.”
“Rise!”
“All who look upon His Excellency must die. No mortal may behold the Anointed One. It is the imperial decree.”
“Rise!”
“No man has looked upon His Excellency and lived.”
“Wise Man, I am soon to leave this world and I have the need to look into another’s eyes, to see the proof of this love of which you speak. I command you!”
“Please, Your Excellency?”
“I command you!” The knuckles of the seated figure whiten and, in his anger, the Emperor rises from his throne and makes to seize the Wise Man and pull him to his feet. In his enfeebled state he loses his footing and lands splayed on the floor, his head colliding with the gold spittoon.
Shadows flicker around the torch-lit throne room. The Wise Man goes to his Emperor lying unconscious on the chill marble floor. It takes several attempts but he locates a pulse, beating faintly. The Wise Man instructs the eunuchs to fan with more vigour while he loosens the Emperor’s tunic and dabs his lips with hibiscus wine.
The Emperor begins to come around. His eyes are glassy at first, but then they regain their focus and meet with the Wise Man’s limpid eyes. What little colour remains in the Emperor’s face drains away and his bottom lip starts to tremble. “Deceiver! You have eyes of grey! You have lied to me!”
The Wise Man regards his dying Emperor steadily.
“What other lies must you have told?” The Emperor’s voice is a whisper.
The Wise Man leans closer to the Emperor and speaks into his ear. “All is lies.”
“No!” The breath catches in the Emperor’s throat. And for the first time in threescore years he knows what it is to be afraid.
(c) GC Perry, 2021
GC Perry's stories appear in Shooter, Litro, Prole, Open Pen, Hobart, Neon and elsewhere. He lives in London.
Apart from her voicework in various media, Lin Sagovsky helps non-actors become better communicators - on Zoom and in person. She also acts in theatre, film and tv, recently as wife of the Dead Sheep in The Crown, and a Judge in Eastenders, though she didn’t get to say “Git outta moy court.”
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