Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [92]
I could see his point. I had wished so hard that I had been born a boy, the eldest grandson, possible heir to the throne. To have men kowtow to me! I had never understood how my father could give up that honor. Now I was glad I would not inherit such responsibility.
“The Great Khan,” I began. “He has talked of sending an army to invade Christendom.” I wondered if my father had heard about Marco Polo.
“The Khan knows that Tengri, Eternal Heaven, has commanded him to complete the conquest of the world,” said my father. “He senses his grandfather, Chinggis Khan, looking over his shoulder, expecting him to finish the work begun by our ancestors. But the Khan has begun to change his emphasis. He is spending more of his time finding ways to wisely rule the lands we already control.”
“Do you think he could be convinced not to invade Christendom?”
My father looked as if he was trying to figure out my motives. “Christendom? Why Christendom?”
I did not have the courage, or the right words, to explain about Marco. “I don’t want to fight in any more battles. I wish I could stop them somehow.”
He laughed gently. “You don’t sound like a soldier in the Great Khan’s army.”
I shook my head. “I am not sure what to do next. I don’t want to stay in the army. But I do not want to get married. Please.”
My father’s eyes glowed softly. “There is another path. You could become a nun, like my sister here, Miaoyan.” He indicated the young nun sitting by the wall.
I looked at her in surprise. I had not recognized her as one of my father’s many younger sisters. I did not know her well, and without her braids, she looked different.
“Aunt Miaoyan Beki,” I said to her, bowing my head in respect.
She smiled and nodded.
“Miaoyan came to me, about a year ago, just as you have come today. She asked many questions. She became a nun just five months ago.”
I felt as if two walls were closing in on me, one on each side. I had not come here to enter a nunnery.
My father reacted to my look of consternation. “I will not force you. This choice must come from your heart.”
Miaoyan spoke up in a soft voice. “Emmajin Beki. This life is right for me, I know that with certainty. But living here has many restrictions. You should take your time before deciding if it’s right for you.”
Their suggestion jarred me, since it was so at odds with the way I had lived my life. But in my despair, it seemed tempting to retreat to this peaceful place. I would miss Marco, but we had no future together. Perhaps I could say good-bye to him, then enter the nunnery with my heart at peace.
I promised my father I would think about it. Miaoyan said I could stay that night with her, at the nunnery nearby. It was too late to return home that day, anyway.
After leaving my father, I went, alone, to the Temple of Guanyin. As I entered the temple, my eyes went straight to the large, central statue of the goddess of mercy. In this Chinese manifestation, as Guanyin, she had a look of gentleness but seemed remote. On an altar in front of her were an incense burner, several plates of dried fruit, and some metal religious objects.
Guanyin was not really a goddess; my father had told me that. She was a bodhisattva: an ordinary woman who had meditated and studied Buddhism deeply enough to enter Nirvana, the highest state of enlightenment. But instead of entering Nirvana, she had returned to earth, to help the rest of us become more enlightened. That sacrifice was the ultimate in compassion.
Butter candles burned steadily in the quiet.
As my eyes adjusted to the semidarkness, I began walking around the temple, trying to think clearly after the conversation. On a side wall in one nook was a brightly painted mural. Clearly, it had been added recently, to give a lively Mongolian flavor to what was otherwise a serious Chinese temple. At first the colors seemed too bright. But then I looked at the detail.
With a start, I realized that I was face to face with Tara, the Mongolian version of Guanyin. I pulled the silver amulet out