The queen, being grieved, soon fell into a despair. Although she lay nightly at the king’s side, she would not lie with him as the manner of wives and husbands. For she said, “Why should I be to him as a harlot whom he lies with but cannot love?” So as she lay beside him, her mind turned in on itself and she thought: If I have no perfect husband, I will envision one. So for many months, she day-dreamed of imaginary husbands and imaginary children.
Then one night, she dreamed. A young warrior from the Eastern Kingdom came to her. His clothes were bloodied as if he had returned from fighting far-off wars. He spoke loving words to her and begged for her love in return. She woke, remembered the dream, smiled and put it aside. But the next night the warrior returned. He told her of his family and how much they loved her, of her beauty and desirability. He begged her not to love Min Ho but to love only him, to dream of him alone. So forcefully did the dream affect her that the next day it pervaded all her thoughts. When she arose, she found herself looking at the faces of her husband’s warriors and at all the administrators for the one who had entered her dream.
It's a madness, she told herself. Yet she could not but admit, the warrior was pleasing and gentle and rejoiced her heart.
When she lay in bed that night, she wished for his return. The next night, he appeared again. How her heart leaped to see him! And for many nights after, he came and spoke to her, so that even while it was yet day— her body longed for him and he was in all her thoughts.
At last, the dream warrior brought a boy-child with him whose features combined those from the Eastern and Southern Kingdoms. It is some demon, she surmised. He has appeared because the world has proven itself harsh, and because my husband does not love me. And yet. . .
So, the barrenness of her dream showed itself. What use were dream-lovers or dream-children? They could not heal her heart or suffice for joy. At last she came to her senses, Perhaps he will leave the portal of my mind if I firmly anchor myself in my own world, no matter how cruel it is. It is the way it is in this world. And I should remember that Min Ho respects me. And my people love me. Enough loves to heal.
So the next night she sent the dream warrior away. The warrior looked upon her as if his heart would break, and the dream ended.
The next morning Queen Enyeydi said to the king. “My husband, make me want to live. I desire your love. Only give me your love and I will live.”
He answered her gently, without apparent bitterness. “It is something I cannot give, My Wife. Because whether from shame, spite, bitterness, or anger at this duty laid upon me, I cannot love you. Learn to live without my love.” Thus he maintained a stalwart distant respect toward her.
That night, bereft of any hope in this life, her mind, grown accustomed to its nightly play, she called the dream warrior to her side. But he did not appear. Instead, one from her own land appeared, a wise adviser of her own people. He entered her palace wearing the turban and kofi of his people and stood at her side. Then, he called Tae-Yung to her, bowed and left. When Tae-Yung appeared, he held parchments showing all manner of conveyances, charted and designed so clearly that when she awoke Queen Enyeydi could not but think the plans were true and the designs workable.
Now, it happened that the palace was situated hard by a place of sand and fields. The ocean and its sandy shore lay before it and the fields lay behind it. I shall create my unborn children, she told herself. Children of stone born from my mind. They will stand like pillars around the palace, bronze and stone comfort for me, as substitutes for the children I will never have.
When the Queen awoke, she called for Tae-Yung who — when he was not traveling throughout the kingdoms supervising the rebuilding of the cities and lands devastated by the war— lived in the western corner of the palace with the king’s generals.
