Anna and the King

Author: Elizabeth Hand
Translator: Qiuin / Country: United States
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-07-01
Features: She was the only British woman I had ever met in my life. I felt that her understanding of the world was greater than anyone else's. For weeks, the wind of the rainy season had been whispering of her coming, like an impending storm, until her name seemed to echo in our dreams as the sound of the wind and thunder. Some welcomed the coming rain, while others feared the raging floods. She arrived anyway, like the autumn rain, once she came into our midst, she could not be stopped. Please understand. I was still a child then. At twelve, my father was in his father's army, with horses, elephants, archers and infantry in golden and deep red uniforms, when he was of that age. But I was not my father. On those exciting days, no matter how I approached things, I still felt like a child in secret, though the son of a king. Therefore. Like our teachers, I did not notice her suspicion before she came to the sacred retreat in our palace or in the months after she replied to my father's letter. Many years later. I began to understand how brave she had been then. How lonely she had felt. A British woman I had ever met in my life, Louis reluctantly forced himself not to look at those rowing sailors. He stood before the king, a little uneasy. "Yes, Your Majesty," Queen Anne smiled at the king. "Now I am the teacher." He pointed to the Siamese flag fluttering high in the wind above his head. "The Siamese flag. Red represents" "Courage!" shouted the French. The king nodded in approval. "White" "Compassion!" The king raised a finger toward Louis. "The white elephant is a rare and respected animal in Siam." He turned to his daughter and said, "Perhaps on the way to the rice festival, we will see a white elephant." "Rice festival?" Anne asked. Louis suddenly shouted and rushed forward, nearly falling over the side of the boat. "Mom! Look!" Anne stood up, shielding her eyes, feeling as if the world around her was tilting. Before them, the river narrowed, winding through low trees covered in white flowers. A wide dock extended into the water, covered with white and pink petals. At the end of the dock stood Mongkut and Bibi, waving happily. Behind them, a beautiful two-story building was hidden among the azaleas, a Siamese-style house but built with light rose-red bricks. Servants were busy inside and outside, unloading the baskets filled with Anne's belongings. "Your Majesty," Anne said with tears in her eyes. "I think you have finally silenced me." "I believe you will find enough space to inherit British traditions," the King of Mongkut said, "even space to grow roses." He smiled, and this time there was no arrogance on his face, only the sincere joy of Anne. As the boat approached the dock, she cried out, "Ah!" and ran to stand beside Louis. "It's amazing!" The king smiled and quickly had attendants come to help them ashore. The French ran ahead, laughing and pointing out all sorts of things—flowers, butterflies, a small pantry almost hidden by the grapevines. Only when they stood in the small garden by the riverbank did Anne turn to the King of Mongkut and shyly ask, "I'm a bit curious, though. Was this because we had an agreement, or were you just trying to get rid of me?" The king looked up at the brilliant blue sky and then at Anne. "Yes," he said meaningfully. "Mom, come on!" Louis shouted impatiently from the steps of the main gate. Anne smiled, lifted her skirt, and hurried toward him. Mongkut and Bibi greeted her happily. Mongkut pointed to the wide balcony on the second floor, and Anne stopped to admire the beautiful canopy made of fig vines near the door. "With a little soap and water, we can have a lovely house, madam," Mongkut said proudly. "Would you like some tea for everyone?" Mongkut called out. "That would be wonderful," Anne said, looking back at the king, who stood on the riverside with his daughter. She waved at the king and smiled. The king nodded in reply and then walked toward the dragon boat. "I like her smile," the French said as they got back on the boat. "Yes, my dear," the king replied. He stood beside his daughter, gazing at her with his hand gently stroking her head. His eyes still fixed on the slender woman in the pearl-gray silk, standing on the steps of her new home, waving. The helmsman shouted to the sailors, who responded by putting their oars into the water, and the golden Hansa began its journey back to the palace.
"I know I am too," she finally saw what she had been looking for: a row of monks in yellow robes, holding bamboo umbrellas to shield themselves from the merciless wind and rain, their faces covered. Taptim stretched his neck as far as he could, trying to see around the umbrellas. He wasn't here. He wasn't here. Then the last monk entered the door, stopped, and glanced back at her. The door began to close, but in that instant she recognized him—even though his head and eyebrows were shaved, even though he looked at her with extreme pain. She had never seen such sorrow and desolation on one face before. Seeing this in the eyes of the man she loved was unbearable. After the temple gate closed and locked Bharat inside, Taptim buried his face in his hands and cried sorrowfully. Yet, even as the days passed, the wind and rain continued to sweep across the courtyards of the palace, and the pain in Anna's heart gradually subsided. She was not like Taptim; she was not a child. She would not waste her life on silly imaginings of unrealistic play; she was a grown woman with a child, who had lived a romantic life. And the king was a man much older than she, accompanied by ministers and generals during the day and dozens of wives at night. She hadn't seen him for almost two weeks now. Even if his face sometimes appeared before her in the dead of night, sitting across from her at a table lit by candles, she knew that it was only an illusion, the result of boredom and the rain beating against the roof. That was all. One evening, Anna sat on the balcony, surrounded by a mist carried by the warm air of the rainy season from the garden. Inside, Bibi and Mongkut were busy cooking, and Louis paced in the living room, playing his brass bugle loudly. "Louis, I don't think ten days of rain would necessarily mean we need to call the army out to fight," Anna scolded. Mongkut peeked out from the kitchen. "Can you play a retreat?" "Mom," Louis said firmly, "I think I should tie my hair in a knot like Prince Chulalongkorn." Anna rolled her eyes. "I think you're a bit silly, dear." Bibi nodded. "It's not surprising, with all this rain." "I don't know why I can't go to school," Louis said angrily. "Because your church is under water," Anna said. "Let's go get ready for dinner." That night, she dreamed of the ocean churning in a storm and a lonely bird crying overhead. She woke up, sat up in bed, and heard a screen left slightly ajar constantly hitting the wall. She climbed out of the mosquito net and walked to the window, fastened the latch, and on her way back to bed noticed something floating on the floor. At first, she thought it was a large moth, but when she got closer, she realized it was one of the bright pictures of the little princess that had fallen from the wall where she had pinned them. Anna smiled and picked it up, feeling a deeper pain in her heart. She hadn't seen this little princess in ten days—too long. She sighed, glanced around, and noticed that many of the child's drawings were floating around the floor like fallen petals. She picked up each picture, placed them one by one on the table beside her bed, and then went back to sleep. The king bent down beside her, picked up the handkerchief, and wiped away a tear from her face. His own eyes were also filled with sorrow. "A chord is made up of notes that are three degrees apart, and so on," "Correct," Anna sniffed. They looked at each other. Anna said in a hoarse voice, "I really wonder why, if science can reveal the mysteries of something as wonderful as music, it can't find a solution for the king and the teacher." The king smiled sadly. "I think it's also an evolution process for people to understand this new possibility." Anna nodded. "In Siam, everything has to be done slowly." "Even if the king wants it to change, it has to be done slowly," she said, moving her gaze away. "I have to go, Your Majesty. As a very close friend once said, 'My path was meant to be this way.'" "I understand that too," Anna paused, nodded, and tried to smile. The King of Mongkut smiled in return and asked, "Where are you going?" Anna hesitated. "Britain." "Home." He nodded. "That's good, madam. It's also good for Louis." Anna paused again. "Yes. Someday, when you visit your new trade partners, please come to play. Maybe then we can finally have tea together." The king still gazed at her, trying to see her face. "What?" "I'm thinking, if it were possible, would the king ask" He paused. "Anna dance." Anna struggled to control her emotions and replied, "I have danced with the king before, Your Majesty." "And I, with a British woman." He slowly reached out his hand. Anna placed her hand in his, and as he led her toward the grand platform, his other arm encircled her waist. Moonlight streamed down, and Mozart's gentle and sweet music still swirled around them. Anna and the Siamese king looked at each other for a long time, knowing that this was their last moment, and it would forever echo in their lives. "Until now, Madam Leonowens," the king whispered, "I have understood that a man can be satisfied with only one woman." Anna bit her lips. Then, with tears in her eyes, she smiled and nodded. The king led her to the platform, where their families and friends joined them to dance the waltz.