Daughter of Xanadu Part 18

32 Precious Medicine

Finally, the day before we reached Nesruddin's palace, I found a chance to talk to Marco. During a steep uphill climb, I deliberately slowed my horse and dropped behind the others, to the back of the line, where Marco was riding with a servant.

"I hope you are not too tired, Messer Marco," I began as his horse pulled up next to mine. I could not bring myself to apologize for my outburst after the battle, and the intervening days had made me more eager to see him.

In a short meeting of our eyes, I could see both pleasure and concern in his. "Thank you. I am not too tired, Emmajin Beki." The soldier behind me was not close enough to hear, but close enough to see our manner of speaking.

I had to work to keep my voice even, as if discussing the weather. "Will you be returning with Abaji to Khanbalik?"

"I must take the dragons back to the Great Khan. I am hoping that Little Li will travel with me, to take care of them. That will mean a slow journey. General Abaji has told me he wishes to return quickly."

My heart fell. I wished I could travel back with Marco, but I knew that General Abaji would never allow it. "General Abaji plans to celebrate the New Year in Carajan before returning home," I said. "But...after you return to Khanbalik? What then?"

He looked sad. "My father's plan is to begin our journey home in the late spring."

I rode in silence, as if I'd heard a death sentence. While I had known that Marco planned to return to Venezia, I had just realized that it would mean losing him forever. In a few days, I would leave Carajan and might not have a chance to see Marco again. "Of course you must return to your homeland," I said.

He lowered his voice. "But I hate to face my father with empty saddlebags. He will be furious."

"What do you mean?" I had never asked him about his trading.

"My father gave me half his profits, what little he had left after giving our greatest treasures to the Khan, and asked me to buy goods on this trip. I spent most of it on rare medicines in Carajan, items not available in the capital, small and easy to carry."

"That sounds like a wise purchase."

"Yes. But now they are gone."

I remembered seeing him go from tent to tent when we were caring for the injured after the battle. "You gave them to the soldiers."

"Yes." He looked at me intently.

"And now you have no gold to buy more medicine in Da-li?"

"That is correct."

"What will you tell your father and uncle?"

He twisted his mouth. "I have been pondering this every day."

Caught up in my own problems, I had been oblivious to his. "Marco," I said. "I will see what I can do."

Back in Da-li, the following evening, Nesruddin invited us to a banquet to celebrate our victory. I sat next to General Nesruddin, with all the sergeants of ten and commanders of one hundred. The airag airag flowed freely, and the food was delicious: spicy rice noodles, ham, snake, stewed fish, bamboo shoots, and mushrooms. The flavors and spices danced on my tongue as if I were eating for the first time. flowed freely, and the food was delicious: spicy rice noodles, ham, snake, stewed fish, bamboo shoots, and mushrooms. The flavors and spices danced on my tongue as if I were eating for the first time.

After dinner, talk turned to the battle of Vochan. Every man present told his view of the battle, except Marco. So Abaji stood and told the story of how Marco had gotten the idea of using fire rats and bamboo lances filled with fire medicine to frighten the elephants. The men shouted, "Good! Good!" Marco smiled humbly, and I realized that he hid his brilliance and acted the fool so as not to appear threatening.

When Abaji had finished, I stood, feeling uncertain. Women seldom spoke at banquets. All eyes were on me. Steadying myself with my hands on the table, I looked across at Marco, then at Abaji and Nesruddin.

"I am not a trained storyteller," I began, my voice cracking. "Still, there is something else you do not know about our Latin friend. After the battle, many soldiers were wounded. Messer Marco gave to our wounded troops his precious medicines that he had bought with his own gold."

A ripple of approval rose from the gathering.

My voice grew more confident. "I saw this with my own eyes. One young soldier was in great pain. He took Messer Marco's medicine, stopped moaning, and later recovered. Messer Marco gave freely, sacrificing all he had. Now he has nothing of value to take back to Khanbalik to trade. This, too, is heroism."

"This is true?" asked Nesruddin. Marco waved his hand as if it were nothing. "Remark on this!" the general continued. "A foreigner has contributed to the Great Khan's cause. For a merchant, merchandise is like blood. Yet he gave it freely!"

"Good! Good!" shouted Abaji, and others followed.

"I will see that you are compensated," said Nesruddin to Marco. And he did. As the Khan's highest representative in the province of Carajan, Nesruddin was empowered to spend the Khan's gold. On behalf of our generous Khan, he gave Marco enough to replace all the precious medicine he had bought and to buy other goods as well.

I was glad I had helped Marco. But it was bittersweet. Helping him buy goods would enable him to return to his homeland.

33 Under the New Moon

Soon it was time to celebrate the New Year-Tsagaan Sar, the White Festival. We stayed at Nesruddin's Palace in Da-li to enjoy the biggest holiday of the Mongol year.

Despite our victory and the festivities, the Mongol holiday traditions filled me with sadness. Suren's absence darkened every activity. We greeted one another with khadag khadags, the blue ceremonial silk scarves we Mongols present with both hands as a gesture of goodwill. Each of them made me think of Suren with unbearable pain. I was sure I would never again feel pleasure on this holiday.

On the evening of the second day of the New Year, when most people of the palace had aching heads from too much airag airag, or sore bellies from too much meat, I found time to talk to Marco alone. He was standing on the ramparts overlooking the huge ear-shaped lake that lapped at the palace walls. This time, there was no moon, as New Year's Day is always on the day of the new moon. The stars seemed brighter, reflected in the lake water.

"Do they see the same stars in your homeland?" I asked, startling him as I came up behind him.

When he saw it was I, he smiled. "It's strange. The stars look exactly the same, and so does the moon. This is the only thing here that reminds me of home."

"You are eager to go back," I said, standing near him.

He turned toward me. "Thank you for your help," he said. "Still, I wish I could find some way to stay." Even in the darkness, I could see that his eyes burned with sincerity.

"There is no way. You know that," I said, wis.h.i.+ng it were not true.

He looked over the lake. "Yes. Of course. I understand."

"Far from home, we are free to think different thoughts," I said.

"And you will return home soon, to the palace." He continued my train of thought. "I hope I have not offended you in any way." His voice became more formal. It saddened me.

Side by side, we stared out over the water awhile. His arm was two hand widths away from mine. My heart was full of sorrow. I felt sure we would never be alone again. "Princess, you remember, in Xanadu," he began, "I told you about courtly love, when a low-ranking man admires a lady from a distance."

So he had been thinking of me. "A lovely tradition," I said.

"Do you recall," he said, "the day you shot down the eagle?"

We had not mentioned the incident since that day. "Mmm," I said.

"You proved, so clearly, that your archery skills were as good as any man's," he said. "But what moved me was something different. You had a heart for that magnificent eagle."

In the dark, I blushed, ashamed that he had noticed this weakness. Yet his voice was gentle and calm, not accusing.

"That eagle died quickly," I said.

"That eagle soared majestically before it fell," he responded. "That was the moment I knew I loved you."

His words, so direct, stunned me. He loved me. He had loved me all this time, all these months. He knew that with certainty.

By contrast, my love for him had not come at a single moment. It had grown over time, from scorn and distrust, through curiosity, to something deeper, a certainty that my life was not worth living without him. I knew that now, with just as much certainty. Yet my life was not my own. It belonged to the Khan.

Marco was looking at me, hoping for a reply. "After the battle," I began. The words stuck in my throat. I swallowed a lump and went on. "Someone told me you were dead."

He moved to comfort me, but stopped. "You seemed angry at me that day," he said.

"I was angry. But not at you."

"We have one more night," he said. He had heard in my voice what he needed to hear. We had one night to act on our love, before I had to return home to the court.

I remembered his kiss, the pa.s.sion of his embrace in Tibet. On this night, even the maid in my chamber would be away, celebrating with her family. No one would know if Marco came to my room. Night after night, I had dreamed of this opportunity.

But it felt wrong. Suren's concern rang in my ears. A heavy weight in my heart felt as dark as the new moon. It was not the right moment for joy. As much as I had wanted Marco, for so long, my heart would not allow it now.

"I don't know what to say," I replied. "The sky is so dark without the moonlight."

Marco could see I was holding back. "The stars are distant, but beautiful. I will always admire them."

Suddenly, I wanted to cry. Nothing would ever be right in my life again. I thought of Ai-Jaruk going off to battles with her father and returning home to an empty bed. Her story had seemed happy when I had first heard it. Now it seemed tragic.

"I must go now." I could barely choke out the words. I turned and walked quickly to my empty bed.

34 News

On the third day of the New Year, we set off from Carajan. With a heavy heart, I left with Abaji and the remaining soldiers.

Before our departure, Little Li and some men had brought the eight young dragons from their village to Da-li, carrying them in baskets suspended from poles balanced on their shoulders. In a courtyard of Nesruddin's palace, they constructed wooden pavilions and secured them on top of the elephants. Inside were special pens to hold the juvenile dragons in shallow water. Each dragon had its own pen, to protect them from snapping at one another. It turned out to be the perfect solution to the problem of transporting the dragons over long distances. Marco was bringing back a little of the magic of Carajan.

During my two-month journey back to the capital, I kept wis.h.i.+ng I could be with Marco, traveling through lowlands with the elephants and dragons. Night after night, I regretted my decision not to go with Marco that night of the new moon. I let my mind wander, imagining what might have happened.

I also agonized about my future. What could I ask of the Great Khan? I could not become a military commander. I no longer wanted to fight in battles, and I certainly did not want to conquer Marco's homeland.

General Abaji, I knew, would recommend to the Khan that we attack Burma as soon as possible, to exploit the king of Burma's weakness after his loss at Vochan. Abaji wanted to raise an army in Khanbalik and return quickly. But I would not take part in that battle. The future seemed like a blank wall that I was racing toward every day.

Shortly before we arrived in Khanbalik, early in Third Moon, a small party of hors.e.m.e.n headed by my cousin Temur came out to greet us.

Temur seemed older, with a deeper voice and a hint of a mustache. He wanted to hear about Suren's death before others did. He acted sad, but Suren's death made Temur the Khan's eldest grandson. If his father, Chimkin, succeeded our grandfather, as expected, Temur might someday become Khan himself.

Temur nearly burst with his own news. "General, you have heard the good news? Our troops have taken Kinsay."

This news sent a lightning bolt through my body. Kinsay was the capital of the Southern Sung dynasty, center of power for southern China.

Two soldiers who were riding close enough to hear cheered. "A victory in Kinsay! All China is ours!" Our army had been fighting in southern China for fifteen years. Now the Khan's empire stretched to the sea in the South and the East, adding hundreds of thousands of subjects in the world's wealthiest country. It was a huge victory, the biggest Khubilai Khan could achieve.

"I was there," Temur said with pride, "with the army as we marched into Kinsay. It was a glorious moment."

"Was the fighting fierce?" I asked.

Temur shook his head in dismay. "Our great general had conquered so many of their cities that the rulers of China knew it was pointless to resist. The mother of the boy emperor conceded without a battle. Our troops rode into Kinsay with no opposition."

This news. .h.i.t me hard. Suren had died in a battle that had not gained new territory for the Empire. Yet the glory would go to Temur and the army that occupied Kinsay.

We dismounted to hear the rest of the story. Temur told it with verve and gusto, as if it reflected his personal glory. I found myself leaning toward him, eager to hear every word. So were the other soldiers.

All winter long, Temur told us, the Great Khan had received news of victory after victory, as General Bayan Chincsan and the Mongol army conquered twelve major cities in southern China. Everyone had been expecting a huge battle at Kinsay, with great loss of life, because they had expected the Chinese to defend their capital to the last man. Then came a messenger with the great news: Kinsay had fallen without a battle.

The empress of South China, mother of the six-year-old boy emperor, had called in an astrologer when the Mongol forces had surrounded Kinsay. The astrologer reminded her of a forecast her late husband, the emperor, had been told as a young man: only a man with one hundred eyes could rob them of their kingdom. Back then, the forecast had been seen as good news. But when the empress learned General Bayan's name, which, when said in Chinese, sounds like "hundred eyes," she surrendered and handed over the imperial seal.

Full of confidence, Temur seemed mature and articulate. With his slim body and handsome, wide-set eyes, he looked more the part of a crown prince than Suren had. I could see in their eyes how much the other soldiers admired Temur. Still, his manner was arrogant. He was too eager to step into Suren's empty boots.

"Good news indeed!" Abaji slapped his thigh. "When is the victory parade?"

A pang shot through me. I had envisioned returning to Khanbalik as part of a victory parade. Now I was returning with a straggling group of soldiers, victors of a distant battle. Our hard-fought win on the plain of Vochan, against such great odds, paled in comparison to the conquest of all southern China. Would the Khan value our victory?

"General Bayan is on his way back from the South, bringing the empress and the young boy emperor. They should arrive in ten days or so."

"Good. So we will arrive in time for the parade-and for the beheading." Abaji's voice sounded eager.

I s.h.i.+vered. A Chinese queen and her young son would now face the wrath of the Khan of all Khans. Their execution would send an essential message, I knew, a warning to all who dared to resist Mongol conquest, including the kings of Burma and Zipangu. Sparing the enemy's rulers was not an option. It would encourage others tempted to resist.

But to me, at that moment, the public execution of a woman and child in the streets of Khanbalik seemed barbaric.

35 Reentry

Khanbalik was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with a sense of pride in Mongol greatness. From the moment we rode into the capital under the huge arch of the south gate, with its curved blue roofs, I could feel the exuberance. Scattered crowds near the gate had been waiting for the arrival of General Bayan with the Chinese empress and her son. People surged forward to look at us, soldiers traveling under the Khan's banner. It was hard to keep riding in formation, and Baatar s.h.i.+ed and whinnied.

"General Bayan!" a man shouted in Mongolian, and more men moved forward.

"No, not yet!" one of Temur's soldiers responded. "General Abaji, returning from a victory in the Southwest."

"General Abaji, returning from the South!" someone shouted. The announcement was echoed in Cathayan, and a cheer rose around us.