Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [32]
“Finally, one day, a pleasing young prince showed up. He was strong, skillful, and so sure that he wagered one thousand horses. King Khaidu welcomed the prince, son of a wealthy king whom he desired as an ally. He ordered Ai-Jaruk to let this man defeat her so that she might have an excellent husband. ‘If he is worthy of me, he will win in a fair contest,’ she declared. ‘I will not pretend to be weak and grant him a false victory.’ ”
Fortunately, Marco looked at the Khan, not at me, when he said that. All these men were fathers, and they did not like to hear of daughters who did not obey. But Ai-Jaruk’s pride and defiance sent a thrill up my back. How could Marco know me so well?
“Hundreds came from distant pastures to watch Ai-Jaruk’s biggest wrestling match. The contest began. The pair seemed evenly matched. They grappled. Each countered the other’s move.”
I gripped the edge of my seat. I felt as if I were in the crowd, watching the contest.
“The onlookers cheered as the bout lasted three times as long as most. Suddenly, Ai-Jaruk threw the prince to the ground and won! As she danced the eagle victory dance, her parents sat in shock. The prince departed, leaving behind one thousand horses.”
Around me, I heard many sharp intakes of breath. But I sat tall, flushed with victory, as if I had earned the thousand horses myself.
“After that,” Marco continued, “no one challenged Ai-Jaruk again. Proud of her strength, her father allowed her to accompany him to all his major battles. In recent years, she has often been seen fighting valiantly by his side. In the lands of the West, lands I traveled through, tales are often told of the skill and valor of the Bright Moon of the Desert West, Princess Ai-Jaruk.”
Marco stopped. Silence filled the hall. I felt exhilarated. I didn’t care what these men thought. This woman had won her freedom! She had succeeded in doing what I wanted badly—to fight in battles! Still alive, she had already become a legend.
From that moment, I wanted more than just the chance to join the army. I wanted to become a legend.
But the Great Khan did not move. The story glorified a woman—a Mongolian woman who disobeyed her father. A woman who defeated men in public. A daughter of Khaidu, a kinsman who defied the authority of the Great Khan. I wondered if the Khan had heard of Ai-Jaruk before. How true was Marco’s tale?
The Khan turned to me. “What do you think of this story, Emmajin Beki?”
My face flushed. My enthusiasm had been too obvious. Now the Khan of all Khans was asking me to speak in front of these men, to give my opinion. Could I be as articulate as Marco—and as courageous?
Slowly, I stood up, scanning the faces of the men and finally turning to the Khan. I had never been good with words or good at thinking quickly. So it seemed forever before the words formed in my mind. By the time I spoke, every man was staring at me.
“O Khan of all Khans,” I started. “Someday, I …” My words caught in my throat. I wanted them to ring out, loud and clear, but they came out soft yet firm. “I would like to be like Ai-Jaruk. I would like to fight.”
The Khan threw back his large head and guffawed.
“Like Ai-Jaruk!” he said. “Huge, ugly. Thick arms, wrestling men to the ground!”
The men laughed, too. I felt like a fool. Here I was, dressed in green silk embroidered with gold flowers, looking slender and slight, with strings of pearls hanging from my headdress. Who could imagine me fighting?
“Ah, pretty Emmajin!” the Khan said with a merry twinkle in his eye. “We don’t need any Ai-Jaruks here.”
His men roared. Chimkin seemed amused, looking at me as if I were a silly child.
My face burned. To me, Ai-Jaruk was inspiring. To them, she was an abomination, a big-muscled woman trying to act like a man. I felt like storming out of the room. I felt like pummeling someone, preferably the Khan of all Khans.
Marco’s eyebrows