Walking in the dust and begrimed by it, I was generally less conspicuous than before. Eating the cheap, rough food of the cameleers and sleeping by their dung fires, I managed to stay almost altogether out of Nicolo’s sight. I did not believe that this truce with him, if I could call it that, could last long; actually he was granting me quarter for a little while for his own uses. Yet for four days he gave every impression of ignoring my existence.
In those four days much happened inside me. I did not know exactly what it was or what good or ill it would bring me. Walking the road was in itself mildly pleasurable, my body being equal to much harder work, my lungs liking the thin, cool air, my brain calm after its late storm, and my heart warmed by the companionship of my clean-striding, quick-handed slave girl. It came to pass that I found a certain fellowship with the cameleers. I had lost so much face that the remnants were not worth spitting at—they themselves would not gain face by insolence to me—and since I was no longer a poor master but had proved their match as a man I even gained a little face of a kind they prized. As for getting caught in thievery, why, I had paid the fiddler.
In the afternoon of the fourth day we came to Kanchow, the ancient walled capital of Kansu, a city heaped with great abbeys and thronged with immense idols. The word flew over our rest ground that Nicolo and Maffeo had been invited to feast with the Khan’s Governor, and presently I saw them, bejeweled and bedizened, mounting their horses to ride in state to his palace. Perhaps I was inadequately hidden among the cameleers and other pedestrians of plain dress, for Nicolo fixed his large eyes on my face. Perhaps he had merely waited our arrival at a new scene to settle matters, for he spoke in an undertone to Maffeo, then came riding toward me.
Looking down from his high seat, he addressed me in an impersonal tone.
“Our invitation from the Royal Governor is an official one to bearers of the golden tablet of the Khan,” he said. “Now that we are approaching the frontier of Cathay, it carries far more weight than in the hinterlands ruled by subject kings beyond his immediate control.”
I had noticed this. Until now the tablet had been largely a token of honor and Nicolo had rarely employed its latent powers. Now it was turning into an Aladdin’s lamp.
“While the authority and the safe-conduct it betokens are vested only in Maffeo and me, in practice they pertain to our property and trains and even to fellow travelers whose interests march with ours and whose missions benefit the Khan,” Nicolo went on. “Obviously it must not be employed for an offender against the Khan’s law. The murmuring of the people would surely reach the ears of the Governor and thus probably the Imperial Council. But your manner lately indicates you’re aware of this.”
“Yes, signor, I am.”
“Of course you know too that since the terms of our agreement are not being kept, you can no longer claim membership in the company.”
“I resigned it, sir, when I lost my goods and my horse.”
“I take it you still wish to go to Peking.”
“Yes, and to find employment there to help to mend my fortunes. I think I could be useful to a merchant wishing to import Occidental goods, and perhaps could obtain a fellowship at one of the universities in astronomy and geography. In due course, I could find my way back to Europe.”
“I think that’s a sensible course. As ambassador to the Khan, I might prevail upon some official to find you a post. Also, I’m not averse to your traveling with the caravan in your present capacity, provided Sheba can continue to serve my slave girl Linda. At Peking I’ll decide whether to present Linda to the Khan or to keep her for my own delight; then you can sell Sheba or make other use of her. Meanwhile I’ll do more than quarter her; for her services you may quarter with my bailiff. However, there must be one clear understanding.”
I inclined my head and waited.
“Make no further call upon me of any land, and do not ask me to present you to the Khan.”
“I agree to that, and considering the trouble I was in, I think it would be very dangerous for me to come near him.”
I spoke unvarnished truth, and Nicolo knew it. His great eyes shone and his big hand loosed the rein. As the gray stallion bore him off, large and effulgent in the sunlight, I became lost in reverie. It came to me that Nicolo was better satisfied with his victory than at first. It was more nearly complete than he had realized or, which amounted to the same thing, I was more easily broken than he had believed. Now he was wondering whether he need expose himself to danger, no matter how slight, to deal me some sort of coup de grace. It seemed to me that he was willing to wait for that, even to let Fate finish me off, meanwhile throwing me enough crusts to keep me from any act dangerous to him. Too harsh treatment might drive me to a deed of revenge. Certainly it would cause unwelcome comment among other merchants.
Was there only so small a hole in his coat, or had he Achilles’ heel?
2
Tonight Nicolo would ride five miles from the caravanserai to the Governor’s palace. My thoughts made a little turn that I often forbade them and lighted on Miranda. It would be a victory for me just to lay eyes on her—for I was rid of the folly and frailty that would make it out a defeat—and I needed a victory sorely. I thought it lay in something more than brooking his will. I had not seen too clearly lately, and I thought she would do my eyes good.
I had calculated the risk of entering her quarters and found it outweighing my hope of gain when Sheba, crossing the courtyard, tossed her chin at me. I followed her into my cell.
“My Lady Linda has gone to the Nestorian temple for her soul’s sake,” she told me. “There’s no one there now but some old priests chanting before the altar, and she said she had something to tell you if you’ll come and hear it. And she said that there was no sin in using the temple as a house of assignation, because the Nestorians were heretics, and anyway she forswore Christianity when she became a slave.”
“Tell her that if she can so beat the Devil around the bush, so can I. I’ll come as soon as you’re out of sight.”
I did so, but at first barely glanced at the two female slaves, both veiled, at a kneeling bench in the rear of the small nave. I was surveying the whole scene, which I had not done with sufficient care in the case of a heathen abbey at Suchow, or perhaps I would have been in a different fix. Indeed Mustapha Sheik had tried to teach me that lesson long years ago.
Above the altar was a large silver cross, its center and four ends adorned with jewels. The altar was bedecked with a cloth of gold in which pearls had been worked to make holy pictures, and lighted by an elaborate lantern with eight wicks. Three priests wearing haircloth tunics and black wool-lined jackets crouched before it, performing ceremonies in the warmth of a charcoal brazier. Presently I discovered that besides this and their warm robes, they had another way to fight the devil-sent cold. At first I could hardly believe my eyes, these being some sort of Christian clergy, but their singing and chanting out of tune, and their falling against one another and their difficulty in getting up and down, left no room for doubt. Presently one of them reached for a ewer behind the altar, quaffed deeply, and passed it to his mates.
The lantern light almost died away before it reached the two girls, then gave the illusion of reviving. They too were warmly clad, and anyway they were used to cold weather by now. I was startled to remember that this was March, and the fourth year of my journey was almost done.