Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [42]
Seeing my fear reflected in Marco’s eyes, I stayed put under the window. I hoped the men would go away and leave us free to escape. Why would the Khan hold a meeting on the hottest day of Eighth Moon?
“Good news indeed!” the Khan was saying. “We are winning battle after battle in southern China. If our luck continues, we shall conquer their capital at Kinsay and have a victory parade in Khanbalik not long after the New Year Festival.”
Another victory parade? I listened closely. Perhaps I could take part in it.
“After twenty years of fighting, it will be the biggest victory of all,” another man said. “Subduing the Chinese has been harder than anyone could have imagined.”
“Your Majesty’s Empire will stretch from the forests of the Far North to the seas of the South—far larger than any Chinese dynasty.” It was my uncle Chimkin’s voice. He seemed near the window. I shuddered and ducked my head lower.
“A toast to our great General Bayan and his troops! May their triumphs continue!” The Khan seldom toasted anyone else. While the musicians played and the men drank, we could have escaped, but my curiosity got the better of me. Maybe I could be sent to the South to help in the final conquest of southern China, instead of to the West.
Marco looked alert as he scanned the landscape for ways to escape.
My grandfather’s voice resounded with confidence. “Today is the day I have been waiting for. We begin planning our final conquests, of those parts of the world we have not yet occupied. When this campaign is finished, we shall rule the entire world.”
His men cheered. Marco’s thick eyebrows twisted.
The Khan’s voice grew softer. Leaning closer to the wall, I strained to hear more. I hoped Marco couldn’t understand this formal court language. “After the conquest of China, we must be ready to move on the next front. I need to decide which of the three options it will be. Let me hear your reports.”
That should have been another signal to run, but my muscles were frozen as stiff as those of a deer standing still to avoid the detection of a nearby hunter.
A man began speaking. I recognized the voice as that of one of the Khan’s generals. He recommended invading Zipangu, Land of the Rising Sun, a set of islands east of Korea. This would require an enormous fleet of ships, and it might take two years to build them.
Another man reported on a huge land called India, famous for rubies and spices, elephants and tigers. To get a large army there, though, would require sending troops over the highest mountain ranges in the world. On the other side lay a country called Burma. Burmese soldiers had recently clashed with Mongol troops in the mountains. The king of Burma had threatened to invade China, and our army had to stop him if he did.
The names of these faraway countries meant little to me.
Finally, Chimkin spoke. I shut my eyes to listen, afraid of Marco’s reaction. “Many lands in the West remain unconquered. Our Mongol kinsmen control Persia and Russia. But now we know that many small countries lay behind that—in Christendom.”
Inches from my side, Marco flinched. My eyes flew open.
The Khan spoke up. “Why Christendom? As we have heard from our storyteller, these countries are weak and poor, with no good sources of gold or gemstones.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty,” said Chimkin. “We also know they have many skilled artisans, a useful addition to our Empire. More important, our spy has come up with a simple, elegant solution.”
I closed my eyes tight again, hoping Marco did not know the Mongolian word for “spy.”
Chimkin continued. “Those Latins have long been obsessed with one goal: taking back their so-called Holy Land. If we offer to cooperate with them to remove the Saracens from their holy city of Jerusalem, they would quickly send their finest troops to the Holy Land. That would leave their homelands undefended. Our Mongol troops could easily