Daughter of Xanadu Part 5

I had made the worst mistake of my life, and this foreigner knew about it. What was it about him that had distracted me from common sense? He was a mere foreign merchant, and I the granddaughter of the Khan. Now he had power over me but had offered not to wield it. I wondered if I was a fool to trust him.

9 Foreign Menace

The heavy sword wobbled as Suren raised it above his head. He could not control its weight as it crashed down. Its tip hit the ground, far from the spot he aimed to hit.

Suren was preparing to join the army, so he was finally allowed to learn to use a sword. I found him early the next morning in a glade in the Khan's woods, practicing.

My heart fell when I saw that he was sparring with Temur, who also held a sword. I had hoped to confide in Suren about my foreigner, to get his advice. But I could not speak freely in front of his brother. Temur would not be sixteen for another year, so he should not be allowed to touch a sword till his time to join the army came.

"I thought you were supposed to start with wooden swords," I said.

Suren grinned when he saw me. "That's what the sword master said yesterday when we started to train with him. But we couldn't resist."

"Don't tell anyone!" Temur glowered at me. As if I could not be trusted!

I ignored him. "He won't be joining the army?" I asked Suren.

He pressed his lips, which were beginning to show a mustache. "In Ninth Moon."

"But why?"

"The Great Khan awards winners," Temur answered, gloating.

I clenched my fists. It wasn't fair. After the summer ended, when military training began in Ninth Moon, both Suren and Temur would be joining the army. I would have to watch them both receive their uniforms and ride off. After all the years of outperforming them, even training them, I would have to stay at court with the women.

Suren raised his sword, grasping it with two hands, and stood, feet apart, in a ready stance. His broad shoulders were steady; his lips were firm. The girls at court whispered about how good-looking Temur was, but the girl who married Suren would be the lucky one. A princess from a distant tribe had been chosen for him but no date had been set for the marriage. I hoped she would be lively and fun, worthy of him.

Temur faced him and deflected a blow before both sword tips dropped to the ground. Fortunately, both swords were wrapped in cloth. Still, two heavy swords in the hands of untrained boys looked like trouble.

I felt wildly jealous. While all Mongol boys and girls learned archery from a young age, women were never permitted to handle swords. No one would ever train me in swordsmans.h.i.+p. This was my only chance. "May I try? Please?" I asked.

"No," Suren said, heaving to catch his breath, looking embarra.s.sed. Suren usually gave in to my pleading, but I should have known he would not do so in front of Temur.

But he was eager to show off what he had learned at his first lesson. "You need to hold it with two hands at first. You're probably not strong enough."

I bit my tongue to keep from responding. He needed time to gain back his dignity after losing the archery contest.

Drawing attention to himself, Temur grasped his sword with two hands, lifted it high, and plunged it straight down, into the soft earth. This was the simplest move with a sword, the easiest to control. It looked like he was killing a wounded enemy.

I laughed. "One less foreigner to fight!"

Suren laughed, too. "Don't tell anyone, but the Khan has a.s.signed me to get to know a foreigner, to learn about his homeland. Temur has one, too. Do you believe that?"

"Interesting," I said. Suddenly, it seemed more of an honor, this a.s.signment. I straightened my shoulders. "He a.s.signed me a foreigner, too."

Temur sucked in his breath. "That can't be."

Suren looked at me strangely. "He wants you to speak to a foreigner? A man?"

"A young man. At first it was supposed to be three men, but the other two did not come to Xanadu because they are sick."

Suren c.o.c.ked his head. "The Khan said that this would help us prepare to join the army. It doesn't make sense that he would ask you to do it."

Hope jumped up in my heart. Maybe the Khan was preparing me to join the army, as well. "Who is your foreigner?" I asked, glad to be on equal footing with them.

Suren lay the sword down and wiped his forehead. He sat on the ground. "He looks so strange. Wears a white turban on his head, with a long tail of cloth hanging down his back. From Arabia. Big thick beard. Eyes a strange light brown."

"My foreigner has green eyes," I said proudly, sitting next to my cousin. "And his hair is brown but s.h.i.+nes red like fire in the sunlight. No turban, though."

"Temur's foreigner has a turban, too. He's Bactrian. Fierce-looking."

Temur was still standing, leaning on his sword, regarding us from above.

"These foreigners," said Suren. "What can we possibly learn from them?"

"I told you," said Temur. "The Khan wants us to keep an eye on them."

Suren looked thoughtful. "But others are better suited to getting information from them. Maybe he wants to make sure we can resist foreigners even after talking to them."

"Resist? Hah!" Temur shook his head in disbelief. "Their countries are too weak to face us in battle, so they come here, begging favors and spying on us. They keep trying to weaken our resolve to fight. I can't wait till the Khan bans them from court."

Suren frowned. "Bans them? The Khan would never do that."

"You haven't heard? Some men at court want to get rid of the foreigners," Temur said. "Several of the princes and military leaders are starting an antiforeign movement, trying to convince the Khan that their presence at court is dangerous."

Suren frowned. "How can foreigners be dangerous if they are weak?"

"They are clever. They write in strange script and send our secrets back to their homelands. They manipulate people. The movement is seeking evidence of treachery."

I had never heard of this antiforeign movement. I wondered if Temur was exaggerating. Still, I realized I knew little about the many factions at court.

Suren shook his head. "My foreigner seems friendly enough."

"Of course, they all do," Temur said. "Don't get taken in. They want you to forget about loyalty. We have to show how strong we are-not just our arms but our minds."

This idea made sense. Joining an army of men would take a strong mind. But this antiforeign movement sounded just as dangerous as the foreigners.

Suren looked at me with concern. "Emmajin, you need to be careful."

To break the tension, I jumped up, grabbed his sword, and raised it high above my head. It was even heavier than I had expected, and it wobbled in the air.

"Hai-yah! After the foreigners!" I ran into the woods, holding the sword high.

Suren chased me, to get his sword back. Swords are not meant for lighthearted play. But I couldn't help myself. I did not want to think about dangerous foreigners.

10 In the Garden

To prepare for my next meeting with Marco, I tried to arm myself as if for battle. I didn't want to be naive, as I had been on our first rendezvous. I had already given this foreigner a dagger he could use to threaten me if he wanted to manipulate me: the secret about my shooting down the eagle. I needed to find a way to win back the upper hand.

When I reported to my uncle, he clarified what kind of information he was looking for and asked me to learn some foreign words. He also warned me, "Next time, do not go so far away. Stay near other people." It seemed sage advice.

A drip of sweat traced its way down my face. This time I had arranged to take Marco Polo to the Khan's famous gardens. They were nearby and others would be there, but we would be meeting in the heat of the day, when most people slept. I needed to show confidence and wrestle some useful information out of the man.

That day, Marco looked nervous. "Emmajin Beki, good afternoon. I was not sure you would come." His hands s.h.i.+fted and his eyebrows twisted.

"Why not?" We had arranged to meet at that hour.

"There are rumors that the Khan is displeased with the foreign visitors at court. I hope no one will advise the Khan against allowing me to entertain him tomorrow."

"I see no reason for that," I said, acting confident but wondering if I had missed something. What had he heard about the antiforeign movement?

He relaxed. "You will tell me, I hope, if I do something to earn his disfavor."

It had not occurred to me before then that this foreign man might feel scared and vulnerable. He was alone, far from home, his life at the whim of the most powerful ruler in the world. That thought should have made me feel more in control, but instead, I was concerned.

We entered the Khan's gardens through a back gate, a round opening in the long red wall that surrounded the garden. Marco's arm brushed against mine as he pointed to the top of the wall, built to curve like the back of a dragon serpent. My arm tingled, and I stepped away, answering his question with stiff propriety.

The minute we stepped over the threshold into the gardens, the air felt cooler, with shade trees everywhere. In Fifth Moon, the gardens of Xanadu sparkled with brilliant colors. The tender green of the willow leaves contrasted with the dark green of the pines. Frothy pink and white blossoms adorned the fruit trees, and the azaleas were just starting to break out in vivid reds and purples.

Marco and I walked along a small man-made lake covered with large pale-pink water lilies. Delicate pavilions and stone paG.o.das rose at the ends of winding paths. Sparrows and swallows twittered and flitted from tree to tree. Like them, my heart was jittery. How could I act stiff and distant in such a lovely setting?

"Magnificent!" Marco gushed. "I have never seen such beauty." He checked my face for my reaction to his compliments. I tried to keep from looking directly into his eyes.

As we walked, he asked me for the Mongolian names of various trees and flowers and birds. So this is how you learn foreign words So this is how you learn foreign words, I thought. My uncle had asked me to study this man's language, but I needed to find out more than the names of trees and birds.

Looking for a spot where I could question Marco without being heard, I led him up a stone staircase to a small six-sided pavilion, with benches around the inside. A chipmunk scurried away when we entered. The conversation would be like a wrestling match, and it was about to begin.

I indicated where he should sit, then sat down directly opposite him, as far away as possible. My back straight, my demeanor formal and proper, I noticed that his eyes shone, as if he was wonder-struck just looking at me. I struggled to recall the words I had practiced saying to the tent post the night before. Marco's thick chest and arms distracted me.

Envisioning a helmet on my head and set of leather armor on my chest, I began to speak, more smoothly this time. "Latins are rare at the Khan's court. Tell me how you came here from your homeland, so far away."

He clasped his hands over his knee and thought for a moment, as if this were a conversation and not an interrogation. "As you know, my father and uncle came here many years ago, and the Khan asked them to come back." His eyes reflected the greenery of the garden around us. "My father left home on that journey just before I was born, in the year of our Lord 1254. When I was very small, my mother died."

He seemed to have said this so many times he no longer felt it, but I felt a pang. Although many women died when their children were young, I knew that losing one's mother so young was no small matter. It took energy to swallow my sympathy.

"I lived with my mother's relatives. We did not receive letters from my father, so we a.s.sumed he had died. When I was fully grown, fifteen years after they had left home, my father and uncle unexpectedly returned. They said they had visited a prosperous land, far to the east, and met an emperor who ruled a vast empire far bigger than Christendom. When they described his riches and power, no one believed them."

"No one believed? The Latins do not know of the Great Khan?"

"No. They know of the Mongols only as 'Tartars,' hordes of hors.e.m.e.n who rode from the East and attacked Christendom during my father's youth. The Great Khan asked my father to deliver a letter to the Pope. The Pope responded with a letter, which we brought with us. We were not allowed to read it, but I believe the Pope demanded that the Khan promise not to invade Christendom again."

It mystified me, why this leader of a small backward land, this Pope, would think he could demand anything of the Khan. This Pope sounded ignorant, tactless, and confused. But Marco seemed to respect him. Marco's arm was covered in light hair.

"My father commanded me to come with them," Marco continued, "on their second journey to the heart of the Mongol Empire, to learn about trading."

A flash in his eyes prompted me to ask, "Did you want to come?"

His laughter surprised me. "Do any of us get to do what we really want?"

"You didn't want to travel, to learn your father's business?" I had envied men because they had more opportunities than women did, but not all men had choices in life.

He smiled ruefully. "The life of a traveling merchant has its appeal, but my aunt often warned me of its dangers. I liked the idea of adventure, but I was a little sad about leaving behind everyone I had known."

"A wife?" He was over twenty, so surely he had at least one wife.

He stopped smiling. "I wanted to marry, but my father insisted I travel instead."

s.h.i.+fting on the bench, sitting on my hands, I sensed he had left behind a woman he loved. I wondered if he thought about her when talking to me. I chose not to ask.

"I nearly died on the way, from sickness," he said. "We had to stop for a year while I battled a fever. But G.o.d did not want to take me yet. So I am here."

Nearly died. Sick for a year. I had never given any thought, when seeing foreign travelers, to the life they had left behind, their difficulties, their loss and grief and fears.

"When will you go back home?" I asked, trying to fight my sense of sympathy.

"Not soon! We just arrived, exhausted after more than three years on the road. My father and uncle are still sick. I hope they will get better soon so they can come to Xanadu and meet you. It will be months before we can think about traveling back."

So the other two foreigners would be coming after all. I felt strangely disappointed at the idea of sharing Marco with them. At least he would not leave soon.

Our sparring match was not going well. Marco seemed to think we were becoming friends. Why did I keep forgetting that he was an alien, not to be trusted?

Even inside the pavilion, the heat was oppressive. Xanadu summers were usually not so hot. I wiped a bead of sweat from my face. "It's terrible, this heat," I said.

He smiled. "I come from a hot climate, so I like warm weather."

The air between us s.h.i.+mmered in the heat. His manner, relaxed and candid, had a way of breaking down that protective barrier around my mind. I felt disarmed.

A murmur of thunder grumbled in the distance. Startled, I jumped up. I hated thunderstorms. I felt an urge to get out of Marco's presence, lest I do or say something wrong.

"We need to go back before it rains," I said. I strode off down a path along a winding wall. Marco looked surprised but followed.

As we were walking, I remembered my uncle's order to learn some Latin words.

I stopped so abruptly that Marco nearly b.u.mped into me. He pulled back, clearly aware of the need to keep his distance from the Khan's granddaughter, and apologized profusely. He was so close I could feel his breath. I pulled back, too, embarra.s.sed.

We were standing next to a pond covered with brilliant green lotus leaves. Several flat-topped stones had been strategically placed so it was possible to cross the pond. Normally a popular spot, the banks of the pond were deserted now.

"Teach me some words of Latin," I commanded.

Marco's head tilted. "With pleasure," he said. "What would you like to learn?"