The Concubine Does Not Love the Emperor - Chapter 6.1

“It’s been a while.”

With a warm smile, Ray approached slowly. The two stood facing each other in the middle of the street. Passersby on the uphill road glanced and muttered a few words.

“Ugh, why do people block the way?”

“Young folks these days have no manners, tsk tsk.”

Margaret turned away from the open criticism. Most of the people heading toward the temple were men wearing turbans. Her presence, walking alone without any escorts, stood out immediately. Margaret was well aware of that fact. Hoping to blend in and not draw any more attention, she quietly maneuvered through the crowd. Ray followed her without hesitation, keeping pace with her steady steps. The rounded tip of the hilltop pagoda gradually came into view.

“Aren’t you glad to see me?”

Margaret, who had been walking ahead without looking back, glanced at the man when she heard his friendly voice. Ray smiled warmly as their eyes met.

“Since we meet again like this, I’m happy.”

No response came from Margaret. Nevertheless, Ray persisted in following her. Finally, she spoke in a gruff voice.

“Weren’t you going in the opposite direction?”

“Ah!”

Ray looked around briefly and scratched the back of his neck.

“There are so many people here; it’s hard to go in the opposite direction.”

“It was going just fine.”

“It wouldn’t work.”

Defiantly, Ray retorted, walking alongside Margaret. There was only one temple at the end of the road. Since they were coming down, it wasn’t for a worship service. They had only met once before, and it wasn’t a particularly pleasant encounter. So, Margaret couldn’t understand why he was following her now.

Finally, the grand temple made of marble revealed its majestic appearance. A crowd of people gathered in front, resembling a swarm of clouds. Impatient individuals pushed their way forward, disregarding the priests’ shouts to maintain order. Margaret was taken aback by the chaotic scene, which differed from what she knew. Perhaps sensing her unease, Ray whispered in a low voice.

“It seems like you won’t be able to get in. How about I show you the back entrance?”

Although she was wary of the stranger’s kindness, Margaret had come this far and couldn’t just turn back. Reluctantly, she accepted Ray’s suggestion.

“The view might not be great from there.”

“It’s okay. My eyesight is good.”

Ray guided her around half of the temple, pointing out the back door that servants or guests might use. The door was unlocked, and they safely entered the kitchen. The busy workers paid no attention to the two who passed through. Ray and Margaret made their way to the back of the worship hall without incident.

“How is it? Can you see?”

She nodded slightly. They had a clear view of the front row of worshipers. Among them, a man adorned with a splendid peacock feather caught her eye. Even though it was only his back, it was in a position where she could easily see his face if he turned around.

After Ray spread out a cushion and sat down, the bell that signaled the start of the service rang. Suddenly, the solemn ringing felt ominous, as if warning about what was to come.

‘What am I thinking?  ‘

As soon as the priest began reciting the scriptures, many people followed along. The priest’s voice, devoid of intonation, evoked memories of the past. The day of that terrible tragedy came rushing back.

“O Lord, save us.”

Caterina’s repeated prayer echoed in her mind. The memories poured in uncontrollably—the trembling prince, the pleading princess, and Klein, who had sacrificed himself for her till the very end.

That dreadful tragedy felt as vivid as yesterday.

****

It was an ominous night. The moon didn’t rise, and not even the usual chirping of crickets could be heard.

Tonight, the king would die. No, perhaps it would be tomorrow morning.

Princess Caterina, beautiful and delicate, held Maragret’s hand tightly and didn’t let go.

“I know it goes against the royal protocol, but…”

Her large emerald eyes were filled with anxiety.

“Please, just for tonight. Stay with me.”

Margaret looked back with a troubled expression. The young prince, merely fifteen years old and eight years her junior, was clearly not ready to become king.

“Oh Lord, please save us.”

Giving up on returning to the mansion, Margaret silently watched the couple kneel as if clinging to the gods, their supplications echoing through the air.

As the long night wore on and a blue hue started to appear in the eastern sky, a sense of fear gradually eased on the faces of the couple. However, their relief was short-lived when the sound of knocking on the door disrupted the stillness.

Unless it was the summons for the prince due to the imminent death of the king, who would be knocking at this hour?

But to everyone’s surprise, it was a maid who knocked on the door, breathlessly delivering her message.

“His Majesty has overcome the crisis.”

The young prince immediately bombarded the maid with questions about who was by the king’s side, and whether this meant the crisis was averted, but all the maid repeated was, “His Majesty has overcome the crisis.”

Hidden behind the bookshelf, Margaret peered out and caught a glimpse of the maid. The maid’s face, as her voice faded, became difficult to discern. In the end, the prince couldn’t get a satisfactory answer and dismissed the maid.