Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [41]
A thought jumped into my mind. While I had been concentrating on Marco’s touch, Uncle Maffeo had given me the crucial piece of information I had been seeking. If all the best troops of Christendom could be tricked into leaving their homelands to fight in the Holy Land, far away, our Mongol troops could sweep in across the northern plains and take over Vienna, Paris, Venezia, Roma.
I stared at the dirt map and imagined a long, sharp arrow starting from Russia and moving overland toward Venezia, even as the ships, filled with Christian troops, left Christendom undefended. If another division of Mongol troops cooperated with the Latins to take over the Holy Land, that could be added to our Empire, too. Surely the Latins could not expect to keep it if we conquered it. The whole West would fall at once, into our Empire. It seemed so neat, so easy.
At last, I had something to report to Prince Chimkin.
Uncle Maffeo stood up, panting. “Too hot,” he said. “Shall we return?”
All night, tossing, I could feel a tingling on each spot of my shoulders and neck and back where Marco’s fingers had stroked me. It was wrong to think of Marco that way. Forbidden. I knew I had to report the conversation to my uncle, even if it meant the destruction of Marco’s beloved Venezia. This was the only path that might lead me to a position in the army and a life of adventure. But my heart felt severed.
Xanadu, by its very design, was supposed to protect the Khan and his guests from the heat. Breezes blew through the green valley, and shade trees were plentiful in the garden and the surrounding hillsides. Pavilions and halls were designed to catch the wind. But I felt sweat-drenched by noon each day. Although I knew all the places renowned for their coolness, I could not find any place to escape the heat.
One morning in the middle of Eighth Moon, Marco arrived for our walk late—and alone. Both his father and uncle were feeling weak from the heat. It seemed I would have one last chance to see him alone before the summer ended. Yet what would I say?
“Princess, I hope you can help me,” Marco said as we walked toward the gardens. “My father is anxious. We delivered all our trading goods to the Khan in Fifth Moon, and we have heard nothing. The Khan continues to enjoy my stories, but he has not rewarded me. We need goods to take back to the West.”
“When do you plan to return to the West?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“As soon as the Khan will allow it.”
Marco had never before made a direct request. “I will see what I can find out.”
“Gratias!” he said, which I knew means “thank you” in Latin.
To find a shadier place to sit, where no one would overhear us, I suggested to Marco that we enter the forbidden part of the gardens, an area only the Khan and his guests could enter. This smaller garden had more trees—willows, pines, and cypresses—and more shade. It was accessible only through a guarded gate. But as children, Suren and I had found a secret way to enter the inner garden from the roof of a small gazebo.
Marco hesitated, but I assured him it would be safe on such a hot day.
Making sure no one saw us, I climbed onto the roof of the gazebo and clambered over the wall into the Khan’s private garden. Marco followed. We walked along a pond surrounded by graceful willows and into a pine grove that would have been cool had there been the slightest breeze. I headed toward a midsize pavilion made of gilded cane, thinking to sit in the shade inside.
When we were just behind the pavilion, I heard voices coming from inside. The wooden window shutters, carved with beautiful scenes and paned with thin paper, were open to allow air into the pavilion. I heard the unmistakable booming voice of the Khan.
Nothing could have been more perilous than walking in the Khan’s private garden with a foreigner. What had muddled my mind? I ducked below a window, holding my breath. Silently, I eased myself into a sitting position. Marco sat beside me. He pointed back to the grove, as if to say, Shall we get away?
I shook my head. The area around us was too exposed,