Part 3 (1/2)
Of course, I had no choice but to get ready quickly.
I had spent many of the happiest days of my childhood in Xanadu, also called Shangdu or ”Upper Capital.” It was on the high plateau of Mongolia, on the other side of the hills that separated Mongolia from Cathay, or northern China. Xanadu's pleasant weather, sprawling formal gardens, and hunting woods provided the perfect playground for the Khan's many grandchildren. The palace there, though protected by thick walls and moats, was smaller and had a more informal atmosphere. Accompanied only by his family, his closest friends and a few invited guests, the Khan was able to relax in Xanadu.
Soon after my mother roused me, I walked into the rear courtyard of the Khan's palace at Khanbalik, just inside the north gate. The courtyard, wide and leafy, bustled with commotion as everyone prepared for the journey to Xanadu. Men shouted and servants loaded last-minute boxes onto carts, ladies stepped into their canopied sedan chairs, and horses whinnied. My damaged nose filled with the sharp smell of too many animals and men in a confined s.p.a.ce. Fortunately, no one stared at my face. I dodged and ducked and picked my way across, looking down to avoid stepping in horse dung.
Four giant elephants stood at the center of the courtyard. They were lashed together, and one ornate pavilion was strapped on the backs of all four. The Great Khan had decided to try a new mode of travel, inside this pavilion on the backs of four elephants that had arrived with the victorious army. Riding on one elephant would be hard enough; I could not fathom how a pavilion could stay steady on the backs of four such creatures, or how they could possibly walk in unison over such a long distance.
As I approached them, the elephants loomed, ever more ma.s.sive. What would I say to the Khan during this long day's ride, the first of our three-day trip to Xanadu? What would he say to me, after my humiliating defeat? I began to sweat, even though the dawn air was still crisp and cool.
The early-morning sunlight glinted on the elaborate woven designs of the silk tapestries, trimmed with golden fringe, that hung on the elephants' sides. Each creature had legs thicker than the red columns of the throne room, with rounded toenails bigger than my hand. Standing next to one elephant, I looked up its ma.s.sive side and saw a turbaned man sitting astride its wide neck. Two huge sharp white tusks jutted out from near its mouth, each tipped with a bra.s.s fitting. The creature stood still, as if gentle.
”This way, Little Sister.” One of the Khan's attendants gestured to a brightly painted wooden staircase at the side of the creature. As I climbed, my legs shook and jostled the ladder. My mother's del del felt too tight to move in. She had insisted I wear one of her most beautiful felt too tight to move in. She had insisted I wear one of her most beautiful del dels, the one she had worn as a young bride. The creature turned its head toward me, and its huge round eye seemed hostile.
At the top of the steps, I paused to catch my breath. I rubbed my fingers over the stiff striped tiger skin adorning the wooden side of the pavilion. Above me, the roof had curved eaves in the Chinese style. The four pillars holding it up were painted with creatures of the hunt. Embroidered, ta.s.seled cloths were draped from the sides.
Inside the pavilion, the sun slanted straight into the eyes of the Great Khan, clad in a white ermine cloak. Next to him sat a short, round lady, the Empress Chabi, his chief wife, my grandmother, whose t.i.tle was khatun khatun, ”empress.”
The pavilion was surprisingly s.p.a.cious, with two long benches, but too small for a full-body kowtow. So I fell to my knees and bowed, facedown. My forehead nearly touched the cus.h.i.+ons where the Khan's feet rested. I noticed that his feet were so swollen that they bulged out of his slippers.
The Great Khan bade me to rise. When I straightened up, eyes still down, I could sense him examining my face. The Empress gasped at the sight. My mother had used heavy powder to disguise the purple lines under my eyes as well as the glaring scab on my upper nose. Just the day before, I had scorned my beauty, but now I felt ugly.
”A Mongol always keeps control of his horse,” the Khan said.
I nodded, feeling miserable and stupid.
”Especially a soldier.”
I swallowed hard. Why had I made a fool of myself in front of everyone I knew by making such a request? I had to fight back tears.
”You are no ordinary maiden. I have long known this.”
I dared to look up at him. Beside him, the Empress had a tiny smile in the middle of her wide, moon-round face.
”I have an a.s.signment for you. Are you willing to serve the Khan of all Khans?”
My heart turned over. ”Yes, Your Majesty!”
”Then sit here, and keep silent.” He indicated the spot to the left of Empress Chabi, on a tiger skincovered couch. My grandmother nodded her a.s.sent, and I sat down next to her. An a.s.signment from the Khan sounded like a chance to redeem myself.
My bottom sank into a soft cus.h.i.+on filled with down. The view from the Khan's perch stunned me. Lines of snow white horses and soldiers carrying horse-tail banners stretched out along the north avenue in grand parade formation. A rush of awe surged through me. All these men lived to serve the Khan of all Khans, ruler of the world.
Sitting close to my grandfather for the first time, I was keenly aware of his great bulk. My grandmother smelled of flowery perfume, and the Khan smelled of garlic and sour milk. He spoke quietly to me. ”I have invited three guests to ride with us today. They are Latins, merchants from a land in the Far West, one we have not yet conquered.”
Foreigners! I quaked. Still, I listened with respect. I quaked. Still, I listened with respect.
”In a few years, after we have completed the conquest of China, we will also subjugate their land, though they do not know it. You have a role to play in this mission.”
He leaned back, his eyes sparkling, as if he were teasing me about a special treat. I nodded, confused and overwhelmed.
”You will get to know these merchants, and find out everything you can about their homeland: its kings, its religion, its language, its defenses, what riches it possesses.”
Shocked, I stammered, ”D-do you mean...to spy on them?”
He smiled. ”We call it gathering intelligence. This mission would be of greater service to me than any on the battlefield.”
Frustrated, I looked at my fingernails, which were rimmed with dirt.
”Khubilai!” My grandmother sounded surprisingly stern. ”She is a girl. Think of her safety.” It amazed me that she would dare to question his judgment.
The Khan regarded me steadily. ”Perhaps she cannot handle this. Can you?”
I had not known any foreigners. My grandfather employed many of them, mainly Muslims and Tibetans and Uighurs, but most children at court either scorned them or feared them. Some foreigners, such as Tibetans, had dark eyes and straight hair like us, but wore distinctive clothing. Others, though, had heavy beards and overhanging eyebrows and thick hair, sometimes wavy like the lines in a sand dune. Farther west, I had heard, the men were ever more hairy, and their eye color ever more deviant. We all understood why ”colored-eye” men made good warriors, since their very appearance was alarming enough to scare any enemy.
This a.s.signment sounded awful. But the Khan had honored me despite my defeat. Hearing my grandmother raise doubts made me want to prove I was up to the challenge.
”Your Majesty,” I said, ”I would be honored.”
Just then, I heard someone coming up the steps. When the visitor's s.h.a.ggy head appeared, I recoiled in horror. Here before me was the frightening foreigner whose image had distracted me during the archery contest. He entered the pavilion and bowed low before the Great Khan, speaking Mongolian with a thick accent.
”Long-a live-a the Kaan of all Kaans.” He misp.r.o.nounced the soft guttural kh kh sound, making it a sharp sound, making it a sharp k k.
When the foreigner raised his head, I forced myself to look at his features. His eyes, that alarming green, registered concern when he saw my swollen face. He wore a fine blue Mongolian del del with a high collar and long sleeves. He masked his smell with a perfume of cloves and ginger. with a high collar and long sleeves. He masked his smell with a perfume of cloves and ginger.
Then the young foreigner did something strange. He bowed to the Empress and me in a peculiar way, one hand behind him, the other swooping in front. Did he not know that no one ever bowed to women, not even the Empress?
”Great Khatun, Empress Chabi,” he said. Then he added, to me, ”n.o.ble lady. Please forgive me if I caused you offense.”
Offense? I remembered with shame the way I had spit at this man, who I now realized was an honored guest of the Khan. Shaking with embarra.s.sment and confusion, I had no idea what to do or what to say to such an unpredictable, outlandish man. I remembered with shame the way I had spit at this man, who I now realized was an honored guest of the Khan. Shaking with embarra.s.sment and confusion, I had no idea what to do or what to say to such an unpredictable, outlandish man.
7 A Tale of Bandits
”Young Marco Polo,” the Khan said with a smile. ”No need to be so formal on this occasion. Where are your father and uncle?”
”I am sorry, Your Majesty. They are ill. Only sickness would keep them from so great an honor.” His Mongolian was thickly accented but understandable.
”Just yesterday, in my audience hall, they seemed well. Sit down before these great beasts begin to move.” The Khan indicated a seat to his right.
”Your Majesty is too kind. Your ladies are, ah, beautiful.”
I looked at him with fascinated curiosity, as one would a monkey on a rope. Normally, no one would mention the presence of women when in the company of the Great Khan. We were supposed to be invisible and silent, mere decorations.
”My chief wife, Chabi Khatun. And this is my granddaughter, Emmajin Beki.” Beki Beki was my t.i.tle, meaning ”princess.” was my t.i.tle, meaning ”princess.”
The Latin did something beyond comprehension. He took off his hat and kneeled before my grandmother and me. ”Chabi Khatun. Emmajin Beki. At your service.”
Not only did he bow on his knees, but he used the honorific form of ”you”-not normally used for women and children. No one had ever referred to me that way. I looked at my grandfather with apprehension. He smiled and shook his head at the foreign manners.