Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [85]
I had to work to keep my voice even, as if discussing the weather. “Will you be returning with Abaji to Khanbalik?”
“I must take the dragons back to the Great Khan. I am hoping that Little Li will travel with me, to take care of them. That will mean a slow journey. General Abaji has told me he wishes to return quickly.”
My heart fell. I wished I could travel back with Marco, but I knew that General Abaji would never allow it. “General Abaji plans to celebrate the New Year in Carajan before returning home,” I said. “But … after you return to Khanbalik? What then?”
He looked sad. “My father’s plan is to begin our journey home in the late spring.”
I rode in silence, as if I’d heard a death sentence. While I had known that Marco planned to return to Venezia, I had just realized that it would mean losing him forever. In a few days, I would leave Carajan and might not have a chance to see Marco again. “Of course you must return to your homeland,” I said.
He lowered his voice. “But I hate to face my father with empty saddlebags. He will be furious.”
“What do you mean?” I had never asked him about his trading.
“My father gave me half his profits, what little he had left after giving our greatest treasures to the Khan, and asked me to buy goods on this trip. I spent most of it on rare medicines in Carajan, items not available in the capital, small and easy to carry.”
“That sounds like a wise purchase.”
“Yes. But now they are gone.”
I remembered seeing him go from tent to tent when we were caring for the injured after the battle. “You gave them to the soldiers.”
“Yes.” He looked at me intently.
“And now you have no gold to buy more medicine in Da-li?”
“That is correct.”
“What will you tell your father and uncle?”
He twisted his mouth. “I have been pondering this every day.”
Caught up in my own problems, I had been oblivious to his. “Marco,” I said. “I will see what I can do.”
Back in Da-li, the following evening, Nesruddin invited us to a banquet to celebrate our victory. I sat next to General Nesruddin, with all the sergeants of ten and commanders of one hundred. The airag flowed freely, and the food was delicious: spicy rice noodles, ham, snake, stewed fish, bamboo shoots, and mushrooms. The flavors and spices danced on my tongue as if I were eating for the first time.
After dinner, talk turned to the battle of Vochan. Every man present told his view of the battle, except Marco. So Abaji stood and told the story of how Marco had gotten the idea of using fire rats and bamboo lances filled with fire medicine to frighten the elephants. The men shouted, “Good! Good!” Marco smiled humbly, and I realized that he hid his brilliance and acted the fool so as not to appear threatening.
When Abaji had finished, I stood, feeling uncertain. Women seldom spoke at banquets. All eyes were on me. Steadying myself with my hands on the table, I looked across at Marco, then at Abaji and Nesruddin.
“I am not a trained storyteller,” I began, my voice cracking. “Still, there is something else you do not know about our Latin friend. After the battle, many soldiers were wounded. Messer Marco gave to our wounded troops his precious medicines that he had bought with his own gold.”
A ripple of approval rose from the gathering.
My voice grew more confident. “I saw this with my own eyes. One young soldier was in great pain. He took Messer Marco’s medicine, stopped moaning, and later recovered. Messer Marco gave freely, sacrificing all he had. Now he has nothing of value to take back to Khanbalik to trade. This, too, is heroism.”
“This is true?” asked Nesruddin. Marco waved his hand as if it were nothing. “Remark on this!” the general continued. “A foreigner has contributed to the Great Khan’s cause. For a merchant, merchandise is like blood. Yet he gave it freely!”
“Good! Good!” shouted Abaji, and others followed.
“I will see that you are compensated,” said Nesruddin to Marco. And he did. As the Khan’s highest representative in the province of Carajan, Nesruddin was empowered