In Xanadu (56 page)

I took out the phial of oil from my waistcoat pocket and, with Lou two steps behind, we very slowly climbed up the ramp. At the top I knelt before the place where the throne of the Khan used to stand.
I
unscrewed the phial then tipped the oil onto the ground. For a second it floated on the surface, then it slowly began to sink into the earth, leaving only a glistening patch on the mud where it had fallen. Then, in the drizzle, halfway across the world from Cambridge, Louisa and I recited in unison the poem that had immortalized the palace in whose wreckage we stood:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills.

Where blossom 'd many an incense-bearing tree:

And here were forests ancient as the hills.

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

Below, beside the Jeep, the Mongols stood shaking their heads. As we walked back towards them the Party cadre revolved his index finger in his temple. He grunted something in Mongol. Then he translated it for us:

'Bonkers,' he said. 'English people, very, very bonkers.'

'Personally,' said Louisa as we got back into the Jeep,'
I
think that he could well have a point.'

EPILOGUE

When Sir Richard Burton left Mecca having spent a year there in disguise, despite having just accomplished one of the greatest-ever feats of exploration he found himself overcome with depression.

The exaltation of having penetrated and escaped the Holy City without damage was followed by languor and disappointment. I had time upon my mule for musing upon how melancholy a thing is success. Whilst failure inspirits a man, attainment reads the sad prosy lesson that all our glories 'are in shadows not substantial things....'

I had never understood Burton's feelings until I left Xanadu. Within the hour, the euphoria of having reached our goal and delivered the oil began to wear off. As the Jeep neared Duolon I began to fuss about what we had failed to achieve. The security guards had forbidden us to take photographs, and I worried that nobody would believe our tale, just as they had refused to believe Marco Polo himself. In fact my anxieties were needless: pieces of roof tile we had managed to smuggle out of the site were later dated by the Fitzwilliam Museum as thirteenth-century Mongol, thus somewhat buttressing our claims. But that lay in the future. As soon as the security guards left us at the caravanserai in Duolon, I immediately began planning to return to Xanadu the following morning to take photographs and make further notes.

It was not to be. At dawn the next day the security guards reappeared and escorted us onto the bus to Zhangjiakou, the provincial capital. There a second group of security guards were waiting for us. They picked us up off the bus and escorted us to the train station. They kept guard over us in the waiting room until the train to Peking arrived; when it did, we were consigned to the care of the train's guard.

As we headed back to the capital,
I
experienced a strange sensation of vacuum. After weeks of worry, the goal had been achieved. Facing me, in the empty first-class carriage, Lou was now fast asleep. Yet I could not relax. Time hung heavy.
I
tried to read. I looked out of the window. I ate some of the snacks we had bought at Zhangjiakou. I fidgeted. Then from my waistcoat pocket I took out the blue logbook with its pages of illegible notes. I thought back to the beginning of the summer and that first morning in Jerusalem, rising before the sun for the first time and setting out to fetch the oil from the Holy Sepulchre.

I got out a sharp pencil, opened a blank page and began to scribble.

Glossary

Aksakal

'White beards', imperial Chinese village official

Birasi

Beer shop.

Buran

A ferocious Turkestani sandstorm.

Caballarii

A cavalryman from the Byzantine free peasant militia.

Caravanserai

Merchants' lodging house. Same as a
han, Khan
or
rabat.

Cay

 
Tea.

Chador

Woman's veil. Can involve anything from a headscarf or a sack to something verging on a tent.

Chai-khana

Tea or coffee house in Iran. Much in favour since the bars were closed down.

Charpoy

Rope-strung bedstead on which the population of India and Pakistan pass much of their time.

Charwal

Baggy pyjama bottoms. Bottom half of a
charwal chemise.

Charwal chemise

Pyjama suit; the unofficial national dress of Pakistan.

Chartri

Mogul helmet-shaped dome.

 Chaukan

Turkestani whore.

Chorba

Thin Turkish soup.

Chowkidar

Watchman, guard or groundsman in India or

Pakistan.

Coolie

Porter.

Dal

Pulses.

Demlik

Turkish samovar with attached teapot.

Derzi

Tailor.

Dhohi

Indian or Pakistani laundryman.

Divan

An oriental sofa.

Dolmus
         
Turkish minibus.

Fida'i
             
Initiated member of the sect of the Assassins.

Funduq
         
Merchants' inn or warehouse.

Gunbad
         
Tomb tower.

Hajj
               
Muslim Mecca pilgrimage.

Hajji
              
Pilgrim who goes thereon.

Hammam
     
Turkish baths.

Han
              
Merchants' lodging house. Same as a

caravanserai, khan
or
rabai.

Hoja
              
An old man.

Hookhah
      
Water-pipe. Same as a
nargile
or hubble bubble.

Ivan
               
Open-fronted hall.