Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [14]
I was not used to hearing people talk about Suren that way. No one dared talk openly about who might lead in our generation. But now I realized that others, besides me, understood the deeper implications of the younger brother’s very public victory. But at least Suren had not come in last.
The blood kept flowing, soaking through the sleeve and front of my del. The only way I could get it out of my throat was to spit in a most unladylike way.
My disgrace was extreme. I had made a fool of myself in public. What chance had I now of convincing the Khan I should join his army? My bravado in making that request now seemed laughable.
In my head, behind that gushing nose, I blamed the foreigner. Sitting on a stool near the side wall of the courtyard, behind the protective bulk of my father’s body, I felt besieged, confused, pained, angry.
Suddenly, my father moved slightly, and I could see standing just beyond him, not two feet away, that same bearded young foreigner staring at me. “My lady showed true nobility of spirit today,” he said in his odd, accented Mongolian.
His arms were covered with hair, and his beard was so thick I could imagine food sticking in it. This creature was subhuman, I thought. Such beasts should not be permitted to enter the palace, let alone to comment on the nobility of royal family members.
The pressure of the day broke over me. I needed someone to blame. I looked him right in his hairy face. “You’re the dregs,” I said. It was the worst insult that came to my mind.
He pulled back, clearly confused and chastened. If the Khan allowed me to join the army, I thought, I would one day kill men like him.
I spit at his feet, a big glob of blood. He jumped back in horror.
I would come to regret my gesture.
The next day, my mother woke me early. My head was pounding. All night I had relived every excruciating detail of the contest, trying to figure out how I could have lost control in such a disastrous way. My future seemed bleak.
“Oh! You can’t leave looking like this!” Mama said in an agitated voice when she saw my face.
I felt my nose. It seemed straight, and the small wound at the top had long ago stopped bleeding. But my cheeks under each eye felt puffy and sore.
Drolma grimaced. “It looks like someone punched you in both eyes.”
“I’ll put white powder on it,” Mama said. “Get up at once.”
I rolled to face the wall, holding my aching head. “I don’t want to get up.” Today was the fifth day of Fifth Moon. On this day every year, the Khan, his court, and most of the Golden Family left the capital for the summer palace at Xanadu. This day was also my sixteenth birthday. I was entering adulthood with a bruised face and pains in my head.
“You must,” Mama said. “The Great Khan sent word that you will ride with him to Xanadu. He expects you shortly.”
Disaster upon disaster. Normally, such an honor would be a thrill, an opportunity to present my case. Men would pay fortunes for the privilege of spending time with the Khan. But my black eyes and swollen cheeks took away all my dignity. Why on earth would the Khan want me to ride with him after I had failed miserably?
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