Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [11]
Finally, the time came for the last tournament, for the eldest of the grandchildren: Suren, Temur, and me. It would be our last contest as children, since I would be sixteen the next day and Suren would turn sixteen within a month. After that, we would be considered adults.
Temur, with his strong voice, had been calling all contestants for each tournament, and this time, he called for “all grandsons of the Great Khan, aged fourteen and fifteen.”
I stepped forward and stood next to him and Suren. The crowd murmured.
Because I was a girl, I was highly visible. Both boys and girls wore the same clothing, the Mongolian del, an outer robe with a high collar, cinched with a bright-colored sash at the waist. But I had two thick braids down my back. All the boys had the distinctive Mongolian male haircut: a bare spot shaved at the top of the head, with a fringe of hair over the forehead and the rest in two long braids pinned up in loops under the ears.
We three competitors stood in a row and bowed toward the Great Khan. Three times, we performed the kowtow on our hands and knees, touching our foreheads to the ground, showing our loyalty and obedience to the Emperor.
After the third kowtow, we waited with our heads on the cold flagstones. Everyone in the crowded courtyard fell silent.
“Rise!” The Khan’s voice boomed. “I have only two grandsons this age.”
I stepped forward, my head bowed.
“Speak!” the Khan commanded.
I looked up the marble stairs at my grandfather, at his round head and thin, pointed beard, his huge ears and narrow eyes. With his bulky body, he seemed grand and immovable. But I had seen a softer side of him, when he joked with the children of the court in less formal settings, and I knew he symbolized all that was good and wise in the Empire.
I willed myself to speak as boldly as possible. “As the eldest granddaughter of the Khan of all Khans, as one named after the Great Ancestor himself, I beg your permission to compete in this tournament.”
My voice sounded thin and high compared to Temur’s strong tones. The Khan regarded me in silence. I gathered my courage to continue.
“If my archery pleases you, I beg you to consider allowing me to join your army.”
A collective gasp rose around me, and Suren shot me a warning look.
The Khan stared at me for what seemed an eternity. As the most powerful ruler the world had ever known, he reigned over the largest empire in history. What I asked for was far-fetched but not impossible. Had I overstepped my bounds?
Finally, the Khan spoke. “Win or lose, come to see me tomorrow. I make no promises today.” His voice sounded deep and ominous.
But to me, “win or lose” meant I could compete. And the next day, on my birthday, I could make my case to the Khan. What a gift. I smiled at him to convey my gratitude.
We three contestants took our positions, lined up, bows in hand. My bow, like all great Mongol bows, curved in a large arc, then curled back at each end. I ran my fingers over its smooth layers of bone and sinew and horn. Its fine horsehair string was so tight that it took great strength to pull it back. My arrows were made of supple bamboo, with vulture feathers and sharp metal tips that could rip deep into human flesh.
As the youngest, Temur went first. He drew an arrow and fit it onto his bow.
“Wait!” shouted the Khan.
We all froze.
“Mounted archery,” he said.
The three of us looked at one another in surprise. Temur lowered his bow. Two men left to fetch horses for us, and several others reset the targets farther apart. Mounted archery involved shooting at still targets while galloping past. I felt even more confident about my ability in mounted archery, but my nerves were screeching.
“It’s her fault,” said Temur.
“It makes sense,” I said. “Mounted archery is what matters in war.”
“You will never go to war.” Temur spit out the words.
“Maybe you will get to go sooner if you perform well