Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [51]
I was frustrated, since as a child I had been on more equal footing with boys. Now they were far taller and stronger than I was. Their muscles had continued to develop, and despite my efforts, I could no longer make mine stronger than theirs. By bedtime each day, my arms and legs ached so badly I had trouble sleeping although I was overcome with fatigue.
After the first few days of euphoria, my mood dropped. The sheer exhaustion drained my spirits. Training was more routine and less exciting than I had expected. On the surface all was well. I was treated with respect yet pushed hard to my limits.
I could not understand my moodiness. I had promised myself I would be tough, and I refused to complain. But sometimes when Chilagun shouted an order at me, my instinct was to shout back. I had to keep reminding myself that I had achieved my highest dream. Coping with the reality of military training was much harder than dreaming of it.
Some days I didn’t perform as well as I knew I could, even in archery. When my arrow was far off target, I imagined the men laughing at me. This increased my anger at myself. When I tried to channel that rage into my performance, my arrows flew farther but did not hit center. I began to get headaches. Often I wished I could escape to a quiet place by the side of a lotus pond in the Khan’s garden in Xanadu.
I missed Marco. I thought of him often, especially at night, in the solitude of my room. When I looked up at the green trees, I thought of his eyes. A horse’s date red mane reminded me of his beard. One soldier had Marco’s deep laugh, and whenever I heard it, my head turned quickly. I was always disappointed to see the wrong face. I regretted my betrayal.
After dinner, the soldiers would sit in the cool night air, drinking airag and talking. Many expressed disappointment that they could not immediately join the main army in the final conquest of southern China. That would be the big victory.
The soldiers had heard rumors about the intelligence-gathering missions. They all assumed that my uncle Chimkin would lead a mission to the desert lands of the West. Abaji’s mission would be to the Southwest, to subdue the king of Burma and prepare for the invasion of India. Many men had heard that a battle against the king of Burma was likely. Most of the men wanted to join this mission, to have their first taste of war.
* * *
Early in the morning of the first of Tenth Moon, the leaves on the maple trees had begun to turn red. All three hundred of the recruits lined up in the same field where we had met a month earlier. Only sixty soldiers would be selected to go—thirty on each fact-finding mission. I stood with Suren in the front row, awaiting judgment.
Sergeant Chilagun read out the names of the thirty soldiers who had been selected to go with Prince Chimkin to the West. I held my breath, hoping I would not be among them. Suren expected to go with his father, but his name was not read. The men selected marched off behind Chilagun.
My name was not called. I sighed with relief. Perhaps my words to the Khan about Marco’s homeland had influenced this decision. But why had Suren not been selected? Maybe Chimkin wanted us both to stay in Khanbalik. Suren and I exchanged nervous looks.
General Abaji came forward to read the list of the thirty soldiers selected to go on the other mission, under his command. Again, I held my breath, this time hoping to hear my name. The first name read was that of Suren, son of Chimkin. He closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows with a relieved smile. But my name was not next. As Abaji read the rest of the list, I stiffened my back and reminded myself that I would do whatever I was assigned.
“Soldiers, follow me!” General Abaji said.
Suren started off, then turned as if expecting me to follow.