Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [109]
No Mongol man would do this; I felt certain of that. To a warrior, it was a weak, female gesture, giving up my power. Yet I knew it took another kind of courage.
Silence spread from us like ripples in the water. Soon I sensed that all the men were looking at the Khan, to see what he would do.
“Rise,” he said at last. “You may continue.”
I stood before the Khan. It was true that I desired to travel with Marco. I knew I could not be as good as Tara, but I wanted at least to embark on her path of compassion.
Yes, I was heir to the World Conqueror, Chinggis Khan. But I was also heir to many strong Mongol women. I was heir to Empress Chabi, who preferred mercy to justice. I was heir to my father, Prince Dorji, a man who dared to seek a higher way.
My words came out with calm certainty. “I beg you to make me a messenger of peace. I will do with my life whatever the Khan commands.” I bowed my head.
After a long pause, the Khan spoke. This time, it was not in a commanding voice that silenced the men around him. Only those closest to us, including Chimkin, Temur, and Marco Polo, could hear. “Here is my decision,” the Great Khan said.
I closed my eyes and held my breath.
“Messer Marco Polo, you have served me well. I would have you stay here and serve me. But if it is your wish to return to your homeland with your father and uncle, you are free to go. You have delivered to me a letter from your Pope. I will prepare an answer to that letter.”
Marco bowed.
Then my grandfather turned to me with a solemn look. My heart pounded even harder.
“Emmajin Beki. You, too, have served me well. You fought hard and helped bring about victory in a battle we might have lost. You suffered a deep loss. I can see the spirit of Suren in you. I have decided to send you to Christendom to deliver my response to the Pope. If he agrees to join our empire, there will be no need for warfare.”
My heart soared to the stars in the sky. I did not dare look at Marco. Tears threatened, but I controlled them. I stepped forward and knelt in front of the Khan. I put my forehead on his knees.
He placed his hand on my head. I imagined his wisdom and benevolence flowing into me. I wanted to say, I promise to serve you well. But the words did not come.
After the Khan was carried away, men surrounded me, touching my arms, as if my glory would flow to them. They asked questions, unable to understand why a warrior would lay down her bow. Most of them had not heard what the Khan had said to me, and I did not explain. They seemed a blur, the voices, the braid loops, the thick eyebrows, the flush of excitement, the warm glow. Chimkin disappeared, as did Marco, for a time.
Temur stood by my side, fingering the dragon tooth. He seemed to bask in Suren’s glory. The tension, the envy, I had felt from Temur was gone.
Still, before he left my side, he leaned toward me and spoke quietly. “Thank you for this. But you need to be careful, Emmajin. That foreigner’s words are like honey, meant to trap you. Remember which side you are on, where your loyalty lies.”
I nodded. He meant well, but he did not understand. Perhaps he never would.
When the hubbub calmed, servants discreetly took the dishes and the bones away. Men milled around, laughing and drinking. The night was warm, and many of the men removed their shirts. They sang crude drunken songs and danced wildly. The hired women hovered in the shadows.
Clearly, it was time for me to leave. I headed for my tent. Along the path, standing discreetly, was Marco, in his blue and silver del. As I walked past him, I put out my left hand, inconspicuously, and lightly brushed my fingers over the hairs of his arm. He stepped onto the path and followed me at a distance.
Instead of returning to my tent, I headed straight