“If you take such pains to make the tomb undiscoverable, how will you find it when the time comes to build the monument?”
Bayan merely glanced to one side, and I looked over there. Some troopers had brought one of their herd mares on a lead rein, closely accompanied by her nursling foal. Some of the men held to the lead rein while the others dragged the little infant horse away from its mother and over to the grave site. The mare began to plunge and whinny and rear, and did so even more frantically when the men holding the foal raised a battle-ax and brained it. The mare was led kicking and neighing away, while the buriers scraped earth over the new body, and Bayan said:
“There. When we come this way again, even if it is two or three or five years hence, we have only to let the same mare loose and she will lead us to this spot.” He paused, and champed his great teeth thoughtfully, and said, “Now, Polo, although you deserve much credit for the victory here, you did it so thoroughly that there is no plunder for you to share in, and I think that deplorable. However, if you care to continue riding with us, we shall next assail the city of Yun-nan-fu, and I promise that you will be among the high officers who are let to take first choice of the loot. Yun-nan-fu is a large city, and respectably rich, I am told, and the Yi women are not at all repulsive. What say you?”
“It is a generous offer, Orlok, and a tempting one, and I am honored by your kind regard. But I think I had best resist the temptation, and hurry back to tell the Khakhan all the news, good and bad, of what has occurred here. By your leave, I shall depart tomorrow, when you march on southward.”
“I thought as much. I took you to be a dutiful man. So I have already dictated to a yeoman scribe a letter for you to carry to Kubilai. It is properly sealed for his eyes only, but I make no secret of its highly praising you and suggesting that you deserve more praise than only mine. I will go now to detach two advance riders to leave immediately and start making ready your route for you. And when you depart tomorrow, I will provide two escorts and the best horses.”
So that was all I got to see of Yun-nan, and that was my only experience of war on land, and I took no plunder, and I had no chance to form any opinion of the Yi women. But those who had observed my brief military career—the survivors of it, anyway—seemed to agree that I had acquitted myself well. And I had ridden with the Mongol Horde, which was something to tell my grandchildren, if I ever had any. So I turned again for Khanbalik, feeling quite the seasoned old campaigner.
XAN-DU
1
IT was again a long ride, and again my escorts and I rode hard. But, when we were yet some two hundred li southwest of Khanbalik, we found our advance riders waiting at a crossroads to intercept us. They had already been to Khanbalik, and had ridden back along the route to inform us that the Khan Kubilai was not presently in residence there. He was out enjoying the hunting season, meaning that he was staying at his country palace of Xan-du, to which the riders would lead us instead. Waiting with them was another man, and he was so richly attired, in Arab-style garments, that at first I mistook him for some gray-bearded Muslim courtier unknown to me. He waited for the riders to give me their message, and then addressed me exuberantly:
“Former Master Marco! It is I!”
“Nostril!” I exclaimed, surprised that I was glad to see him. “I mean Ali Babar. It is good to see you! But what do you out here, so far from city comforts?”
“I came to meet you, former master. When these men brought word of your imminent return, I joined them. I have been given a missive to deliver to you, and it seemed a good excuse to take a holiday from toil and care. Also, I thought you might have some use for the services of your former slave.”
“That was thoughtful of you. But come, we will make holiday together.”
The Mongols led the way, the two advance riders and my two escorts, and Ali and I rode side by side behind them. We turned more northerly than we had been traveling, because Xan-du is up in the Da-ma-qing Mountains, a considerable distance directly north of Khanbalik. Ali groped about under his embroidered aba and brought out a paper, folded and sealed, with my name written on the outside in Roman letters and also in the Arabic and Mongol letters and in the Han character.
“Someone wanted to make sure I got it,” I muttered. “From whom did it come?”
“I know not, former master.”
“We are equally freemen now, Ali. You may call me Marco.”
“As you will, Marco. The lady who gave me that paper was heavily veiled, and she accosted me in private and in the nighttime. Since she spoke no word, neither did I, taking her probably to be—ahem—some secret friend of yours, and maybe the wife of some other. I am far more discreet and less inquisitive than perhaps I used to be.”
“You have the same perfervid imagination, however. I was conducting no such intrigue at court. But thank you, anyway.” I tucked the paper away to read that night. “But now, what of you, old companion? How fine you do look!”
“Yes,” he said, preening. “My good wife Mar-Janah insists that I dress and comport myself now like the affluent proprietor and employer I have become.”
“Indeed? Proprietor of what? Employer of whom?”
“Do you remember, Marco, the city called Kashan in Persia?”
“Ah, yes. The city of beautiful boys. But surely Mar-Janah has not let you open a male brothel!”
He sighed and looked pained. “Kashan is also famous for its distinctive kashi tiles, you may recall.”
“I do. I remember that my father took an interest in the process of their manufacture.”
“Just so. He thought there might be a market here in Kithai for such a product. And he was right. He and your Uncle Mafio put up the capital for the establishment of a workshop, and helped teach the art of kashi-making to a number of artificers, and put the whole enterprise in the charge of Mar-Janah and myself. She designs the patterns for the kashi and supervises the workshop, and I do the peddling of the product. We have done very well, if I may say so. The kashi tiles are much in demand as an adornment for rich men’s houses. Even after paying the share of the profits owed to your father and uncle, Mar-Janah and I have become eminently affluent. We are all still learning our trade—she and I and our artificers—but earning while we do so. Prospering to such an extent that I could well afford to take some time off to do this bit of journeying with you.”
He chattered on for the rest of the day, telling me every last detail of the business of making and selling tiles—not all of which I found compellingly interesting—and occasionally imparting other news of Khanbalik. He and the beautiful Mar-Janah were blissfully happy. He had not seen my father in some time, the elder Polo being also out traveling on some mercantile venture, but he had glimpsed my uncle about the city, now and then of late. The beautiful Mar-Janah was more beautiful than ever. The Wali Achmad was holding the Vice-Regency and the reins of government in the Khan’s absence. The beautiful Mar-Janah was still as loving of Ali Babar as he of her. Many courtiers had accompanied Kubilai to Xan-du for the autumn hunting, including several of my acquaintances: the Wang Chingkim, the Firemaster Shi and the Goldsmith Boucher. The beautiful Mar-Janah agreed with Ali that the time they had so far spent in wedlock had been, though coming late in life, the best time of both their lives, and worth having waited all their lives to attain … .
We put up that night at a comfortable Han karwansarai in the shadow of the Great Wall, and when I had bathed and dined, I sat down in my room to open the missive Ali had brought me. It did not take me long to read it—though I had to spell it out letter by letter, being still not very accomplished at the Mongol alphabet—for it consisted of only a single line, translating as: “Expect me when you least expect me.” The words had lost none of their chill, but I was getting rather more weary of their refrain than apprehensive of their threat. I went to Ali’s room and demanded: