Daughter of Xanadu Part 8

A frisson went up my back. "And if she refused his affections?"

"If he could not see her, he would weep and sigh. He would write poems about her, wishing he had the wings of a dove to fly back to her."

What Marco spoke of sounded both risky and appealing. What kind of place was this Christendom? "He worships a lady."

"Not like he worships G.o.d. Very different. But he loves and admires her from afar. His love enn.o.bles him and inspires him to do great things, to serve her."

"He would serve a lady?" Could love for a woman actually enn.o.ble and inspire a man, rather than weaken him and distract him from his duty?

Marco grinned. "Let me show you how the knights do it."

He looked around and picked a yellow wildflower, long-stemmed and lovely. Then he took off his hat and held it before his chest. He knelt and offered me the flower.

"O n.o.ble lady, your beauty and radiance blind me. I am at your service." He looked up at me and I saw a teasing twinkle in his clear eyes, even as his voice took on a serious tone. "Please accept this flower as a token of my love."

I was so shocked I didn't know what to say. A man on his knees before a woman! Professing adoration and willingness to serve her! Women were meant to serve men, not the other way around. Then again, he was a lowly merchant, and I a member of the Khan's Golden Family. Of course, he was just acting, showing me how others did it. Still, it was strange. It was wrong. Terrible, even. But it turned my head.

Marco looked up at me with an odd combination of admiration and playfulness. A b.u.t.terfly lit on his shoulder. A slight breeze shook the yellow wildflower in his hand.

My heart was bursting in my chest. My ambition had always been to be a warrior, but this foreign notion, courtly love, appealed to something so deep in me I had not known it was there. My cheeks felt hot.

I couldn't accept the flower.

"Very different from the Mongol tradition, no?" He broke the tension and stood. Then, as naturally as if I were his little sister, he tucked the flower behind my ear.

The touch of his fingertips lit my ear on fire. I looked at him with alarm.

"I mean no harm," Marco said. "You are always safe with me. I am a merchant, not a knight. A teller of tales. I hope I did not offend you."

"You should not...," I began. It took a moment to get my voice back. His eyebrows rose. "You should never, never tell such a story to the Great Khan."

Marco guffawed.

"If you did, he would..." I did not want to continue. He would not trust you to spend time alone with me, ever again He would not trust you to spend time alone with me, ever again, I thought. Did I trust Marco?

If Marco thought, for even one moment, that he could love me, a princess of the Khan's family, he was making a terrible mistake. A dangerous mistake. A daring, delicious mistake. No, I would have to be firm with him. I was not a lady giving her scarf to a warrior. I was preparing to be a warrior myself.

This conversation had gone too far.

I took off, running.

Marco ran behind me, through the tall gra.s.ses speckled with wildflowers. We were like two children, racing across the meadow. I was much more comfortable moving.

Marco caught up with me, ran alongside me, then sprinted ahead. I was surprised to see that he could run so fast. Here was one physical activity at which he excelled.

I veered off toward a little hilltop I knew about, and he followed me up. This hill was a berm, part of the outer defenses of Xanadu. At a strategic spot on it stood a heap of stones, taller than I was. I stopped when I reached the cairn.

"What is this?" Marco regarded the heap with curiosity.

"An ovoo, ovoo," I told him. "It marks a sacred place." Mixed in with the rocks were blue and white scarves that travelers had left there, to show their respect. "See? You pick up a stone from the ground and circle the ovoo ovoo three times, making a wish. Then you toss the stone onto the pile." three times, making a wish. Then you toss the stone onto the pile."

I picked up a nearby stone and began walking to my left around the ovoo ovoo. Marco did the same, following me. He remained quiet, respecting our custom.

After three times around, I stopped, repeated my wish inside my head, and tossed my stone onto the heap. Marco did the same.

"What was your wish?" I asked him.

Marco's grin was lopsided. "Should I tell you?"

"Yes!"

"I wished that you would not join the Khan's army."

His wish surprised me. "Why?"

He twisted his mouth. "You could be killed."

I laughed. "That's what makes it exciting."

He shook his head. "I don't like this warfare business. Too much blood. Soldiers are trained to kill. Surely you wouldn't want..."

My irritation returned. "Yes, I would. The most highly regarded men are the finest warriors. They are the n.o.ble ones who make a difference in the world."

"Ah, yes, sorry. We have it upside down in Venezia."

"Upside down?"

"The n.o.ble men become senators, to help govern the city. They get an education. Some buy ships or go off to trade, to bring back precious goods that make life more comfortable. Not as n.o.ble as invading countries."

It seemed he was mocking me and my desires and my people, but in such a lighthearted way it was hard to take offense.

"The young men don't wish to train to become warriors?" I asked.

"You saw how slow I was with my dagger!" He laughed. "No, most wealthy young men aspire to go to sea, to take part in trade. But it's not just to gain wealth. We travel to other countries, learn foreign languages, try to understand other people. It's an appealing life, one of adventure. In my homeland, this is considered n.o.ble work."

Upside down was right. Who would aspire to go to sea?

Marco grew serious. "Everyone suffers during wars. We traders like stability. During times of peace, we can trade with countries that are far away. This is why I admire your Great Khan. Although your armies are still fighting in China, he has established peace for thousands of miles between here and my homeland. When my father was my age, a Latin could not safely travel this far. We traders prefer peace."

"Peace!" I nearly spit. "The only way you can make peace is through conquest. And the only way to keep it is to suppress rebels and bandits, by force."

"True." Marco smiled. "But I can't help thinking there is a better way."

He seemed so naive. "A better way than conquest?"

He smiled ruefully. "It will probably seem absurd to you. But sometimes there is a role for talking things through. Maybe even a role for storytellers. Once when we were captured by fierce tribesmen in the mountains, I told them tales of our homeland. It softened their hearts and they freed us."

"You were lucky they didn't kill you," I said. "Didn't you tell me that in all those small countries in Christendom, their armies are always fighting one another?"

Marco nodded. "True. Each king has his own army. We believe each country should rule itself. We love our freedom."

"Those countries would be better off as part of the Mongol Empire," I stated. "That's their only chance of achieving greatness."

Marco observed me steadily. "Princess, how can I explain? There is dread in my land, of Mongols, whom my people call Tartars. If my people could see the splendors of Xanadu, they might change their minds. But we hear horrible stories of the hordes that invaded Christendom. Those warriors raped, looted, ma.s.sacred innocents by the thousand. They cut off the ears of each person they killed."

I remembered the disembodied ears Old Master had showed us. Marco's face reflected his pain and disgust. So this was how our people were viewed in his homeland. This foreigner was cursing our revered Great Ancestor, who gave fair warning to every land he invaded, promising leniency to all who cooperated.

I straightened my back. "Eternal Heaven ordained that the Mongols conquer all lands, from the rising of the sun to the setting of the sun. This is our destiny."

The foreigner backed off, as if I had pulled out a saber. "Again, forgive me, Princess. I am but a simple merchant, not qualified to discuss the affairs of khans."

"True. You are not." I could hear the harshness in my voice. This man was saying traitorous things that could get him hanged. "Let's return," I said.

He nodded. "Emmajin Beki, I did not mean to offend you."

I kept silent. We were ending the conversation where we had begun it, with an apology.

After our walk in the gra.s.slands, I was more confused than ever. Marco was funny and fun to be with. But his worldview and values could not have been more different from mine. Although we were not at war with this man or his homeland, clearly he and I were not on the same side. He claimed to want to serve the Khan, but when he spoke honestly, I could see he was not loyal at all. Our interests would always be in conflict.

That night, I had a vivid dream. In it, a huge army of strangers was galloping toward my house, threatening to kill everyone I knew. Before they arrived, I woke up, my heart pounding and my body covered in sweat.

13 Crucial Information

"Ignorant child!" Chimkin spoke his mind.

My tall, thin uncle sat on a wide, throne-like chair raised several steps above the floor in his own chambers, as if practicing for the day when he would be Great Khan.

It had been hard to decide what to report to my uncle. I told him of the mounted warriors, how they practiced skills by jousting. Of course I had not mentioned courtly love. But I did tell him that the people of Christendom feared our Mongol army, that the little kingdoms fought each other, and that I had told Marco Polo that those countries would be better off as part of our Empire. That didn't sound ignorant to me.

"You might as well have said we were raising an army to invade his homeland."

Were we raising an army to invade Marco's homeland? I dared not ask.

He sighed. "You have much to learn about gathering intelligence. We are looking for the c.h.i.n.k in their armor, the best way to take advantage of their weakness."

Uncle Chimkin might as well have been speaking Latin. What was I to look for? He seemed impatient and angry with me, as well as the foreigners at court.

"Emmajin Beki." His voice was calmer now. "I have told the Great Khan that you have provided some useful information, and that you are learning Latin. Suren has asked me to take you with me on my next military venture. I can only do that if you do well."

My heart rose. Did he mean as a warrior?

"The Khan has entrusted me with the task of pacifying the West. His attention now is on the South, on the conquest of China. Once that is completed, I plan to convince him to send several divisions to the West. Working with our fellow Mongols in Russia and Persia, it should be an easy romp to conquer the rest of the Western lands."

My heart clenched. "Including Christendom?"

"Yes. Suren and Temur are learning other languages from that part of the world. I am watching all of you, to see whether you might prove useful to me."

My thoughts tumbled on top of each other. Perhaps there was hope after all. In spite of his judgment that I was an ignorant child, my uncle thought I could play a role of some sort in the army. He was not talking about making me a soldier, but to travel with the army! With Suren! It seemed too good to be true.

Yet how could I take part in the conquest of Christendom, and join a military horde thundering toward Venezia? Now that I knew Marco, I had begun to question my long-held beliefs.

"I would be honored," I said, bowing my head slightly, to show humility and obedience. What could I do to win his favor?

"Continue with your work. Learn the foreigner's language. Hide your opinions and feelings. Get him to trust you. If he becomes suspicious, he will stop talking to you." I nodded and he continued. "Act friendly, but do not take his side or help him. Probe for that crucial piece of information, the c.h.i.n.k in their armor."

"Yes, Uncle."

"Above all, never mention anything about plans to invade his homeland. The Great Khan has not made any final decision."

"I will do as you say," I replied. I left his chambers full of hope and confusion.

Marco was charming and witty, a good friend if not more. He had all but declared his love for me. I knew he was only partly teasing. One word from me, and it could be more than jest. Somehow, he had managed to declare his heart without making me feel awkward or threatened. My feelings for him were jumbled, but I was flattered.

Now my own heart's desire seemed within reach. Chimkin might be willing to intervene with the Khan and let me join the army. Yet at what price? I had dreamed of galloping off with the army. But Marco's words had put doubts in my mind. How would I feel riding off to the West to conquer Marco's homeland? All his talk of peace kept repeating in my head.

What an impossible situation! I had always been loyal to my Khan and my people, but now that loyalty required me to make an enemy of a man who was gradually becoming my friend.

The next time I went to Marco's ger ger, a few days later, he was not alone. Standing with him were two older men, also Latins.

Marco looked uneasy. "Princess Emmajin. Let me introduce you to my father, Niccolo Polo, and my uncle, Maffeo Polo."

I nodded at them. "Welcome to Xanadu. You are feeling better now?"

"Yes, thank you." His father, thin and intense, angular and sharp, had hawkish eyes of dark gray, not green like Marco's. Beneath his neatly trimmed beard, his thin lips tensed in a straight line.

Uncle Maffeo, tall and big-bellied, with pure white hair and beard, coughed so deeply he had trouble stammering out his greeting. "A pleasure to meet you."

Although he was a large, imposing man, I immediately felt sympathy for him. "The journey from Khanbalik was not too hard, I hope?" I said.

"We want come earlier. We send apologies to Khan," responded Marco's father. "We stay rest of summer here." His Mongolian was choppier than Marco's, and his accent much thicker. His manner-distant, formal, dry-contrasted with Marco's charm.

I nodded, sensing that the rest of my summer would be much more constrained. My days of lighthearted fun with Marco had ended. The Khan had a.s.signed me to get to know all three Latins. Perhaps these older men knew more important information about their homeland than Marco did.

Uncle Maffeo began coughing again. Marco tapped his back with care and affection while I stood awkwardly.

Marco's father ignored the coughing and continued, his voice sleek and oily. "I trust my son has pleased the Khan of all Khans."

"Yes. The Great Khan has invited him back to his banquet hall to tell another tale." I remembered that the success of their trading mission depended on the Khan's goodwill. I suspected that Niccolo Polo thought of little else.

With a pang, I realized that it would no longer be possible for me to see Marco alone. No more talk of courtly love. That should have pleased me. I would have safety in numbers. But part of me, a part I was trying to suppress, felt disappointed.

That first day, I took them into a pavilion in the garden. Marco asked me to repeat to them many of the things I had told him about myself and about Xanadu. In their presence, Marco was more subdued.

"Your son has told me about your homeland, Venezia," I said to his father. "I hope to visit it someday."