The Silk Princess Read online

  For Olenka and Christina

  —C.S.

  This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2007 by Charles Santore

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at

  www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Santore, Charles.

  The Silk Princess / by Charles Santore. — 1st ed. p. cm.

  Summary: After a cocoon falls into her teacup and unravels to form a long, delicate thread, Hsi-Ling Chi, a princess in ancient China, meets a mysterious man who reveals how to transform the cocoons into silk.

  eISBN: 978-0-375-98298-9

  [1. Silk—Fiction. 2. Princesses—Fiction. 3. China—History—To 221 B.C.—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.S2383Si 2007 [E]—dc22 2007004764

  v3.1

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Copyright

  First Page

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  The legend of the secret thread begins five thousand years ago in China, the ancient Middle Kingdom. The Emperor Huang-Ti and his noble Empress, Lei-Tsu, had two sons, whom the Emperor doted upon.

  He also had a young daughter, the princess Hsi-Ling Chi, whom he hardly noticed.

  The Great Emperor, descended from the sons of heaven, was a grand figure. Regal in his bearing, he reigned in splendor. Although his riches could afford him any pleasure, he was greatly displeased with his royal garments and had spent years searching for fabric worthy of his nobility. His quest had been unsuccessful, until one fine day, in a pleasant corner of the royal gardens, the search came to an end.

  On this fine afternoon, the Empress and Princess Hsi-Ling Chi were enjoying the royal gardens. The Empress was sitting in the shade of a mulberry tree, enjoying her afternoon tea. She watched her daughter playing among the spring flowers and did not notice when a cream-colored cocoon fell from the tree above her and landed in her teacup. The little princess, however, did.

  Hsi-Ling Chi peered into the teacup and was astonished to see the cocoon unraveling in the hot tea, forming a long, delicate thread.

  “Oh, Mother, look. It’s as fine as your hair!” she cried, holding up one end of the shimmering thread. The Empress smiled and asked, “Shall we see how long it is?”

  “Yes!” Hsi-Ling Chi replied, delighted at her mother’s proposal. “I know,” she shouted. “I will tie this end of the thread around my waist, and you, Mother, will hold the cocoon. I shall walk away from you, and we shall see how long this fine thread is. I will go to the end of the gardens, should the thread reach that far!” The Empress agreed, for she never imagined the cocoon would unravel to the end of the royal gardens.

  Hsi-Ling Chi, anxious to begin the game, kissed her mother goodbye, bowed, and started on her way. Attached to the thread, the little princess glided away from her mother, like a kite on a gentle breeze.

  She walked past rock formations representing the Holy Mountains, beside glistening pools, and continued on, looking back from time to time to see her mother getting smaller and smaller in the distance. Princess Hsi-Ling Chi had never been away from her mother before, yet she did not hesitate.

  “I am not afraid at all! This must be a magical thread!” she thought as she walked along.

  After a while, feeling a little sleepy, Hsi -Ling Chi yawned and stretched out on the cool grass in the shade of an ancient tree and fell into a deep sleep.

  When she awoke, the little princess looked around in wonder. Unfamiliar trees and plants of every description lined her way. She passed among camellias, magnolias, and beautiful, fragrant flowers.

  She was so taken with the lovely blossoms that she nearly walked right into an enormous spider’s web that stretched across her path. “Watch where you’re going! Are you trying to destroy my web?” Startled, Hsi-Ling Chi found herself face to face with an angry, glaring spider. Before she could utter a word, the spider hissed again, “This is my lair! Find your own place to spin your flimsy web!”

  The frightened little princess apologized. Bowing deeply, she slowly backed away, then found a safer path through the flowers.

  Ahead towered the palace entrance, and still the thread had not reached its end.

  Hsi-Ling Chi kept going, and soon she passed out of the royal gardens and through the great gates of the palace itself.

  All the guards at the entrance bowed as the princess walked past them. “I am outside!” she shouted. “I’m outside of the royal palace! Even Mother has never been this far!” Hsi-Ling Chi looked around in amazement. In the distance, she saw the Holy Mountains rising into the clouds.

  As she walked along the wide road leading away from the palace, from time to time the little princess would touch the shiny thread that tied her to her mother.

  “This is truly an adventure,” she thought to herself. “I have heard wondrous stories at court about the world beyond the palace. Some say there is even a terrible dragon that sleeps under the bridge leading to the Holy Mountains. It is said that to cross the bridge, one must be careful not to wake him, for he can hear the faintest footfall. I can be very quiet,” the little princess said to herself, “and I would so love to see a dragon.”

  Gradually, the road began to rise, at first gently and then steeply as it wound higher into the mountains. Hsi-Ling Chi came to a bridge spanning a deep gorge. “This must be where the dragon sleeps,” she thought.

  It was so silent, only the sound of the wind could be heard. The princess was no longer sure she wanted to see a dragon, but still she was determined to cross the bridge.

  Carefully, the princess removed her shoes, closed her eyes, and dashed barefoot onto the bridge, with the long, shiny thread stretching out behind her.

  In her haste, the little princess stumbled and dropped one of her wooden shoes onto the bridge. It landed with a crack. The sound echoed off the rocks and filled the gorge. Suddenly she heard a mighty roar, and a huge dragon emerged right behind her!

  Hsi-Ling Chi scooped up her shoe and ran for her life. The beast sprang, its jaws snapping to devour her.

  But the dragon’s huge claws tripped over the shiny thread, sending the monster hurtling into the gorge and onto the rocks below.

  The terrified princess reached the other side and kept running until the bridge was far behind her.

  Hsi-Ling Chi wandered in the mists of the Holy Mountains. She was exhausted from her ordeal and the long climb, and she was also hungry.

  Darkness was falling, and the little princess decided that she had gone as far as she could go. When she turned to use the thread to guide her home, she saw that it was broken. Now she was lost!

  The little princess had been searching for the lost thread for hours when she came upon a small hut of bamboo and thatch. She peered inside and saw a very old man sitting at a loom beside a fire. He was weaving a fabric that shimmered and glistened in the firelight. She had never seen anything so beautiful. “I have been wait
ing for you,” the old man said. “Welcome to my humble home, Hsi-Ling Chi. You have arrived just in time—I am nearly out of thread.”

  “How do you know my name?” the little princess asked.

  “The silkworms sent you,” he replied. “They have chosen you to reveal their secret to the Emperor. You have brought the thread I need to finish the fabric I have been weaving for him.”

  “Are you one of the mountain gods the ancient stories speak of?” the little princess asked, bowing very low.

  The old man smiled and said, “Child, your journey has been long. You must be hungry.” He offered the princess some hot soup and a bed of straw by the fire.

  Once she had eaten, Hsi-Ling Chi told him all about her adventure with the spider and the ferocious dragon and how she came to be lost.

  As the old man continued his weaving, he revealed the silkworms’ secret and how to transform their cocoons into the precious thread, which he called “silk.” She listened carefully as he spoke of harvesting the cocoons. His soft voice was like music, and it blended with the constant thrum of the loom like a lullaby. Soon she was fast asleep.

  When Hsi-Ling Chi awoke, it was morning. “It is time for us to leave, little princess,” said the old man. The loom was already packed on his back. “The fabric is nearly finished and you must present it to the Emperor.”

  “But my father never speaks to me! Besides, you said it was not yet finished,” Hsi-Ling Chi said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “That will be done on our journey down the mountain,” the old weaver replied. “As you gather the thread that leads you home, I will use it to complete the fabric. By the time we reach the royal gardens, the fabric for the Emperor’s robe will be finished.”

  “But the thread was broken! How shall we find our way?” asked the little princess.

  “You needn’t worry, my child,” the old man replied. “I know the way to the bridge. There we will find the rest of the thread to lead us to the palace.”

  So off they went, the little princess and the old weaver, down the Holy Mountains and to the bridge, where they found the end of the thread and gathered it as they went.

  From time to time, they would stop. While the little princess rested, the old weaver would unpack his loom and continue his work on the silken fabric.

  At last they passed through the monumental gates of the palace and into the quiet splendor of the royal gardens. They were nearing the end of their journey when they rested for the last time in the shade of the ancient tree. As the afternoon shadows grew longer, the princess dozed off watching the old man at the loom.

  When the princess awoke, the old weaver was gone. His loom was gone. And so was the beautiful silk fabric he had woven. They were nowhere to be seen. The thread, however, was still tied around her waist. She quickly began reeling it in as she hurried back to tell her mother all that had happened.

  The little princess was thrilled to see her mother still sitting under the mulberry tree, holding the cocoon. The Empress smiled as her little kite came gliding home.

  “Did you have a nice nap?” the Empress asked Hsi-Ling Chi, for she knew the little girl never missed her afternoon nap.

  “Oh, Mother, there was a huge spider, and an awful dragon under a bridge, and a very old man with a loom,” she said excitedly. Hsi-Ling Chi went on to recount the whole adventure—she revealed the silkworms’ secret that the old man had shared with her, and described the beautiful bolt of silk that he had woven for the Emperor.

  “My dear, you have had quite an adventure,” said the Empress.

  Something in this extraordinary tale stood out. The Empress repeated the word “silk” to herself. Then, looking down at the cocoon she was still holding, she smiled knowingly and summoned the royal weavers. “Follow Princess Hsi-Ling Chi’s instructions,” she said. “Gather up all the cocoons you can find, and weave a fabric worthy of the robe of an Emperor.”

  The royal weavers obeyed. They produced a truly magnificent robe, as had never been seen before.

  The Emperor—delighted with his beautiful robe—finally noticed his little girl, and he was so very pleased with her and her discovery that he proclaimed that all the finest clothes in the royal court must be made of silk. From that day forward, his daughter, the little princess Hsi-Ling Chi, was known as the Silk Princess and was greatly honored throughout the land. But her wonderful, mysterious, shimmering thread—gift of the silkworms—remained a secret, kept by her children, and her children’s children, and on and on … for three thousand years.

  Author’s Note

  I first became aware of the legend of the discovery of silk in ancient China when it was mentioned in a novel I was reading. The story piqued my interest, and I decided to do some research on the subject.

  According to legend, sometime after 2700 BC, Empress Lei-Tsu—wife of Emperor Huang-Ti, the Yellow Emperor—was sitting in the shade of a mulberry tree in the royal gardens. She was enjoying her afternoon tea when a silkworm cocoon fell out of the tree and into her teacup. The hot tea caused the sticky substance that bound the strands of silk forming the cocoon to soften. The strands began to unravel, thus disclosing to the Empress the secret to unlocking the delicate thread from the cocoon. Whether the story is fact or fiction, however the discovery of silk actually occurred, it was a monumental event for China.

  This story involving Empress Lei-Tsu, told and retold for centuries, is usually referred to as a legend, for not much is known about the Yellow Emperor or his court. It is said that they lived in those misty reaches of time before the Hsia dynasty. It was a tale that inspired me. I was hooked!

  In some versions of the legend, the Empress is referred to as Lei-Tsu, and in others as Hsi-Ling Chi. I decided to resolve this by giving the Empress a daughter named Hsi-Ling Chi who sees the cocoon fall into the teacup and watches as the silk unravels into one long, continuous thread. The amazing length of that silken thread is the question around which my story is built—with a game proposed by a little girl that results in an adventurous journey and a great and important discovery.

  —Charles Santore

  Photograph by Nicholas Santore

  Charles Santore’s award-winning illustrations have appeared in museums, special exhibits, and libraries across the country and around the world. In 2000, he garnered the Society of Illustrators Original Art Gold Medal for A Stowaway on Noah’s Ark. Santore is best known for his luminous interpretations of classic children’s stories—his sumptuous edition of The Wizard of Oz has been called the quintessential illustrated version. Charles Santore lives and works in Philadelphia.

 

 

  Charles Santore, The Silk Princess

  Thanks for reading the books on GrayCity.Net