Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [8]
All night, I tossed in the bed I shared with my sister. I wanted to meet this military commander, General Aju, and wished I could ask him about the battle for Hsiangyang. But I also knew that once I was betrothed, my small chance of joining the army would disappear. My dreams would vanish forever.
If only I could show off my skills in the archery tournament, to prove publicly that I could do the extraordinary. Until recent years, I had always been praised for my archery and racing skills. Why should that change now? Perhaps someone, somehow, would realize what a waste it would be for me to marry and leave the family.
The next morning, Drolma braided my hair, trying to make it as smooth and neat as hers. She sang as she worked, in a sweet soprano voice that calmed me. It occurred to me that I would miss her once I left home, whether for marriage or for the army.
When she finished, she bit her lip, facing me. “Please, Emma. Make it happen this time.” I hated to disappoint her, to keep her life on hold.
Just then, a messenger arrived, saying Aju would be coming earlier. His son Jebe was to enter the archery tournament. Word had spread quickly, and young Mongols around Khanbalik were arriving at court, eager to compete. My heart leaped. Perhaps these betrothal talks would end early and I could take part in the tournament after all.
At midmorning, they arrived. The minute I saw the young man, Jebe, I knew he would be a disastrous match. His father had the tall, burly physique of a military commander, but Jebe was as skinny and knobby as a winter tree branch.
Both Aju and Jebe stopped when they saw me, dressed in my mother’s best blue embroidered robe. “Dorji, you old fox,” Aju said. “What have you been hiding?”
Smiling, my father showed them to their seats in the row of Chinese chairs. Mama motioned to me, and I served the men bowls of airag, fermented mare’s milk. I handed the first drink to Aju, who sat at my father’s right, in the guest-of-honor seat.
“I hear she’s a spirited one,” Aju said after his first sip of airag.
“That she is,” my father said, nodding as if he had complimented me.
Feeling like a servant, I fetched a plate of Mongolian cheese and brought it to them. I had been through this ritual before. Once, I had dropped the whole plate of cheese into the lap of a suitor’s father, but I did not dare do that now. Not to a high-level military commander. I hoped they would talk about the recent battle.
“Emmajin is an unusual name for a maiden,” Aju commented.
My father nodded. “I wanted to name her Tara, for the goddess of compassion. But she was born on the day my father became khan, and he chose this name for her.”
I lifted my chin and shot a look of pride toward the general, who was nodding as if impressed. My name, Emmajin, a gift from the Khan of all Khans, was the female form of Temujin, the birth name of the Great Ancestor, Chinggis Khan.
“So your son plans to compete in archery today?” my father asked.
Aju grimaced. “His skills are not yet perfected. The Great Khan will be present?”
My father nodded. “I believe so.”
My heart pounded. Oh, to have a chance to demonstrate my skills to the Great Khan himself! Then he would see that I was worthy of my name.
My father continued. “I hear your son can read and write?”
“In Chinese and in the new Mongolian script. He spends too much time at it.”
“The court needs men who can read. He could serve the Khan well as an official.” My father and his brothers were part of the first generation of Mongols to read and write, and he took pride in it. But I agreed with Aju that reading was unnecessary.
Aju shook his head. “Someday, perhaps, after he proves his worth in the army. His elder brother fought in the battle for Hsiangyang.”
At that moment, I was offering a second plate of cheese. My curiosity took charge, and I could no longer remain silent.
“We heard about the battle,” I said tentatively. Everyone looked at me in shock. “This new machine, this catapult,” I continued, checking Aju’s eyes to see if it was all right to continue. “Is