Marco Polo - Laurence Bergreen [126]
FINALLY, Marco gets down to business: the city’s lucrative salt monopoly. He calculates the revenue of “the salt of this town” and moves on to sugar, claiming that the value of the province’s sugar was “more than double that which is made in all the rest of the world.” That was not all: the “spicery…is without measure.” And they all contributed to the khan. “All the spiceries pay three and a third percent; and of all goods they pay also three and a third percent. And from the wine that they make of rice and of spices they have a very great revenue also, and from charcoal. And from all the twelve crafts…they have, each craft, twelve thousand stations; from these crafts they have very great revenues, for they pay duty on everything.”
He reveals how trade worked in Quinsai: “All the merchants who carry goods to this city by land and carry them away from it to other parts, and those also who carry them away to sea, pay in the same way—a thirtieth of the goods…, which takes three and a third percent; but those who carry merchandise to it by sea and from far countries and regions, as far as from the Indies, give ten percent. Moreover, of all the things that grow in the country, produce coming both from animals and from the land, and silk, a tenth part is applied to the lord’s government.” Not surprisingly, this revenue “amounts to untold money.”
Marco assures his readers that the khan had one object when he collected these tremendous revenues, the well-being and safety of the people of his empire: “For the great profit that the great lord has from this country he loves it much and does much to guard it carefully and to keep those who dwell there in great peace.” In practice, that meant he used the revenues to pay for the mercenaries to occupy the cities and towns of the province, especially Quinsai. Marco puts this exploitation in the most favorable light: “The Great Khan has all those revenues spent on arms that guard the cities and countries, and to alleviate the poverty of the cities.”
MARCO’S SOJOURN in the City of Heaven ended abruptly, inexplicably. He gives no reason for his departure, not even a date for this watershed event. Perhaps his tenure as an official of the Mongol government terminated with an embarrassment, a charge of corruption, or a jealous rival getting the better of him. In any event, he found himself expelled from Quinsai and its myriad pleasures, no longer a tax assessor, and once more a wayfarer.
He took comfort in reuniting with his father and uncle, and in resuming his former identity as a private merchant. Trekking with them through “mountains and valleys,” he arrived in South China, where the people, although idolaters—that is, Buddhists—were “subject to the rule of the Great Khan” and so posed no obvious threat to the traveler in their midst. But to his disgust, Marco realized that “they eat all coarse things and they also eat human flesh very willingly, provided that he [the deceased] did not die a natural death.” Their preferred meat came from those who died by the sword, rather than from disease, and, Marco says, they considered this “very good and savory flesh.”
The warriors’ battle costumes were as fearsome as their eating habits: “They have their hair cut off as far as the ears, and in the middle of the face they have themselves painted with azure like the blade of a sword.” In keeping with their wrathful visage, they were “the most cruel men in the world,” for, Marco notes, “I tell you they go all day killing men and drink the blood, and then they all eat them.” Worse, “they are always eager about this.” Their presence was sufficient to distract Marco from the lions roaming the mountain escarpments. From time to time the animals leapt upon wayfarers like Marco and made a meal of them. He found a semblance of safety from these dangers by joining a caravan of merchants, predominantly Buddhists and silk traders. No matter what their religion, they guided