Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [37]
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, massacred 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 grasslands, 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.
“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 chink 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