Dorgon arrived in time for the Emperor’s birthday by some miracle. He had to abandon the slow carts and ride ahead with a group of loyal warriors, but by mid-March he nevertheless entered the tall gates of Beijing, flung wide open.

  For such a celebration, the entire capital shimmered with bright ribbons and scarlet paper lanterns.

  Colorful kites drifted in the sky, tethered to the earth only by thin spools of threads invisible to the eye. Children shouted and raced one another, jugglers blew hoarsely into their horns, calling to the crowd.

  The Prince Regent smiled.

  Merely five years ago he had ridden along this same street at the head of his warriors, clad in heavy armor and peering warily into dark alleys. The capital of the Ming emperors seemed gray and unwelcoming; frightened townspeople watched the Manchu troops distrustfully from their windows.

  Back then he did not allow Fulin to enter the city for several months, until he was certain the capital would be safe for his young ward. They took Beijing in June, and the Emperor moved here only in October, when all uprisings had been suppressed and the rebels captured.

  And now, only five years later, those same townspeople sing and dance, loudly celebrating the eleventh birthday of the Shunzhi Emperor! Was this not the finest reflection of the reforms Dorgon had been forcing down the throats of rebellious tribes and wavering officials year after year?

  Of course, he had to wage war before great and small alike bowed to his will, but it had been worth it. Dorgon had skillfully rid himself of most rivals and remained the sole factual ruler of the empire, and disputes in his councils sounded ever more rarely.

  His most difficult struggle had been with Jirgalang.

  Prince Zheng, his cousin and co-regent, clung to power to the last, and his supporters had stood with him since the days when Dorgon had only just learned to sit in the saddle. Jirgalang commanded the Bordered Blue Banner and had been counted among the Four Great Beile twenty years ago.

  The other great ones — Daisan, Manggultai, and the late emperor Hong Taiji himself — had long since left this world. Thus Dorgon had needed to exert considerable effort to overthrow his powerful rival.

  Not even a year had passed since those efforts were crowned with success: Prince Zheng had been placed under arrest and stripped of rank, then sent to the southern frontier to restrain the raids of the last supporters of the Ming dynasty. There he remained to this day, while the honorary title of second regent passed to Dorgon’s full younger brother Dodo, Prince Yu.

  Dorgon and Dodo had always gotten along. Battles and beautiful women captivated Dodo, affairs of state did not concern him. Dodo always trusted Dorgon in matters “written in ink.” Dorgon, for his part, was certain he could rely on his younger brother’s military genius to subdue an impregnable fortress or extinguish yet another uprising in the provinces.

  Their elder full brother Ajige, Prince Ying, unfortunately possessed neither Dorgon’s political talent nor Dodo’s gift for the art of war. He habitually supported his younger brothers and was ready to speak in their favor at councils, but he did not even have a banner of his own. When necessary, he took warriors from Dorgon’s Plain White Banner or from Dodo’s Bordered White Banner. Some people were surprised by such a violation of seniority, but in their family merit had always been valued above age, and there were no resentments among them.

  Dorgon was already anticipating how, in the evening, he would speak at length with his brothers, exchanging the latest news over a cup of wine raised to the Emperor’s health.

  Strangely enough, the Emperor’s birthday was celebrated more lavishly in the city than in the palace.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Empress Dowager Zhaosheng disliked festivities, constantly lamenting the lack of funds and the waste of the palace treasury. No matter how many jewels Dorgon brought from his campaigns, no matter how much booty he cast at her feet, she remained firm in her intention to live in quiet and calm.

  Of course, she could not entirely ignore the Emperor’s birthday, but instead of a week of entertainments with dancers, exotic animals, and mock battles that would be discussed for the entire following year, the Empress Dowager limited herself to a morning ceremony of official congratulations and a small evening banquet afterward. At least it was an occasion for the whole family to gather and look at one another.

  Or almost the whole family.

  Dorgon sincerely hoped that this year would pass without Jirgalang. He had not sent him into exile only to admire that sour face at the imperial banquet.

  The guards at the palace gates recognized him at once, he did not even have to restrain his horse while the doors were opened. Few were permitted to ride into the imperial palace mounted and armed, but the Prince Regent, of course, enjoyed that privilege.

  “Prince Rui! You have returned!” came a joyful call as soon as his detachment began to dismount.

  Dorgon turned.

  Across the paved courtyard an aging official hurried toward him in the robes of the chamberlain of the imperial guard. The deep tan and energetic movements of this short, wiry Manchu revealed a seasoned warrior. Since his father’s death, when he assumed command of one of the niru of the Plain White Banner, Ubai had accomplished many feats. Now, in addition to his honorary palace title, he sat in the State Council and commanded the vanguards of four banners. Dorgon considered him one of his best commanders.

  “How do you fare, old friend?” The regent cast a quick glance around to ensure they were not being overheard and leaned toward his comrade’s ear. “Did Prince Zheng come?”

  Even if within the family he was accustomed to calling everyone by name, at times it was better to use relatives’ official titles.

  “We sent the order at the last moment, as you commanded. But, unfortunately, he could not fail to appear,” Ubai snorted. “Now he sits and tells everyone how he received the invitation to the celebration only nine days ago. The journey from Hunan usually takes a month, but he, of course, performed a miracle and arrived on time.”

  “Cunning Jirgalang.” Dorgon shook his head with a crooked smile. “Naturally, had he not come, I could have accused him of disrespect toward the Emperor. But he chose to pay for it with several nights in the saddle. I understand.”

  “If we had sent the order even later, you might have been suspected of forgery, Prince Rui,” Ubai lamented.

  “Very well, today we are even,” Dorgon waved a hand. “I, too, lingered longer than I intended and in the end rode post-horses from the frontier.”

  “It is fortunate you arrived in time, Prince Rui.” Ubai bowed politely and gestured invitingly toward the inner chambers. “Allow me to escort you to the banquet.”

  When Dorgon entered the hall in broad strides, illuminated by countless lamps, all fell silent.

  Only the musicians, having received no other command, continued playing their languid, mournful melody. Dorgon felt the sting of hundreds of gazes upon his skin, but he habitually paid it no heed. He had been accustomed to being the center of attention since childhood. And now, moreover, that center should not have been him.

  The Prince Regent proceeded to the far end of the hall, where tables stood upon a raised platform for the Emperor and both regents. His younger brother Dodo had apparently already raised several toasts and wore a joyful, somewhat foolish smile. The guests seated below rose and bowed to the regent as he passed their tables.

  “Ten thousand years of life to the great Emperor!” Dorgon roared so that the guests flinched, and the young Fulin drew his head into his shoulders. The regent lowered his tone slightly and folded his hands before his chest in greeting. “I am infinitely glad to congratulate the Son of Heaven on this joyous day! I present to him three swift-footed stallions, a coral tree from the depths of the sea, and a bow of buffalo horn crafted by skilled Joseon masters. May victories and prosperity accompany the Emperor forever!”

  Servants entered behind him bearing these gifts on silk-covered trays. The horses were represented by three ornate bridles. Dorgon would have been pleased to show Fulin how to break them in, but he doubted they would find time for that in the coming days. Perhaps closer to summer…

  “I am grateful to Prince Rui for his congratulations.” Fulin nodded with gravity. Dorgon noted with satisfaction that he no longer hid behind his mother’s skirts before a crowd as he had at the very beginning of his reign. The boy was gradually growing and maturing. “Share this meal with me. Without the prince, it was incomplete.”

  Dorgon bowed once more and took his place of honor on the platform at the Emperor’s right hand. Dodo sat to the left, and for Empress Dowager Zhaosheng another dais had been erected.

  Dorgon caught her gaze and bowed separately.

  Zhaosheng turned away.