Marco Polo - Laurence Bergreen [140]
“Where are you going so late?” Cogatai asked Ahmad.
“To Chinkim, who is this moment come.”
Cogatai was understandably suspicious. “How is it possible that he is come so secretly that I have not known it?”
Historical records suggest that as he drew up, Kao, still posing as Chinkim, summoned the soldiers on guard to approach, a move that suddenly exposed Ahmad. Lying in wait, Wang Chu withdrew a substantial brass bat from his sleeve, leapt at Ahmad, and beat him to death.
Marco offers a more sophisticated insider account of the assassination: “The moment that Ahmad came into the palace, seeing so many candles lighted, he knelt down before [Kao], believing he was Chinkim; and Wang Chu who was there ready with a sword cut off his head. And seeing this, Cogatai, who had stopped in the entry of the palace, said, ‘Here is treason’ and immediately shot an arrow at [Kao], who was sitting on the seat, and killed him.” (In the historical record, Kao survived a bit longer.)
Cogatai ordered that “anyone found outside his house be killed on the spot” and proceeded to slaughter Chinese on the assumption that the two assassins had worked closely with the local populace. And the barbarism spread quickly to other cities.
WITHOUT LEADERSHIP, the uprising soon played itself out. Within days, Wang Chu and Kao gave themselves up to the authorities, proclaiming themselves heroes for ridding the empire of the wicked Ahmad.
On May 1, 1282, both conspirators were quartered—their limbs pulled off by horses walking in opposite directions—and beheaded as punishment for their deed.
Just before he was executed, Wang Chu cried out, “I, Wang Chu, now die for having rid the world of a pest. Another day, someone will no doubt write the story for me.”
WHEN NEWS OF Ahmad’s assassination reached Kublai Khan, the supreme ruler reacted with alarm and uncharacteristic decisiveness. He traveled to Shang-tu and ordered a thorough investigation. Expecting to learn of the perfidy of Ahmad’s murderers, Kublai instead heard tales of Ahmad’s treachery; now that the minister was gone, those whom he had harmed came forward to describe his flagrant dishonesty and abuse of power.
Indignant at these revelations, Kublai prosecuted Ahmad’s followers, his children, and other members of his clan. Within weeks it was decreed that anyone who had offered his wife or daughter to Ahmad in exchange for a government post should be removed from office, and all property that he had confiscated returned to its rightful owners. In all, 714 government appointees were dismissed, according to official records.
In June, the Yüan dynasty tallied Ahmad’s staggering assets, which included more than 3,700 camels, oxen, sheep, and donkeys. His slaves were freed, his property was claimed by the state or given away. Marco vigorously narrates Kublai’s relentless retaliation: “He ordered Ahmad’s body to be taken from the grave and flung in the street to be torn to pieces by dogs. And those of his sons who had followed the example of his evil deeds he caused to be flayed alive.” And Rashid al-Din, the era’s leading historian, adds a few grisly details of his own, revealing that Kublai, enraged even after Ahmad’s death, ordered the minister’s body to be “dragged from his grave, that a rope be tied to his feet and that he be hanged at the cross-roads in the bazaar; over his head they drove wheels.”
RETRIBUTION PERSISTED long after Ahmad had disappeared from the scene, largely because the culture of corruption that he created remained. According to Chinese custom, executions occurred in the fall, and when the season arrived, four of his sons, including Husain, as well as a nephew, were dispatched; to deepen the disgrace, their bodies were pickled. All Ahmad’s followers were blacklisted. The government compiled a catalog of his crimes and announced it in cities and towns throughout the empire so that all would know his evil deeds and treachery. Most of the hundreds of government offices