The Avatari (7 page)

‘Thanks, that’s very tempting. Maybe next time?’

They got up and Tim saw him to the hallway leading to his room.

CHAPTER 4

Khanbalik

F
EBRUARY 1294 CE

Temur, Governor of Yunnan and grandson of the Great Khan, shivered in his furs and felt ashamed for it. These soft, butter-skinned Hans had weakened his blood. Never in all these years had he felt the stab of the icy wind that swept the high passes and the steppe beyond; the tales of the great warriors were part of his very being. He could fight and ride with the best and had proved himself in battle on countless occasions. He was a young man and there were many who felt it was too early for him to hold the rank he enjoyed. But these men wisely kept their own counsel, not daring to share their thoughts even with their shadows for fear of angering the Great Khan who had appointed Temur to this position.

There was unrest in the kingdom. Temur’s concubine would have likened it to the
dong zhi
, the winter solstice, when the sleet whipped the stark, leafless branches of the cherry trees of Khanbalik and the wind blew in a steady, throbbing moan, causing the spirit great anguish. Bayan, the renegade general, was still holding the Karakorams, while Kaidu, cousin to the Great Khan, was in control of Xi Xia. These reports, sent every month by the governors of the provinces, were read out in the imperial chambers. Dissent and rebellion were creeping across the land. Three years ago, the emperor’s armies would have ridden out over far less significant provocations. But that was three years ago. Kublai Khan rarely attended these proceedings now and when he did, it was more for the purpose of asking about the expeditions he had sent off to distant lands.

For the past many months, the Great Khan had been sequestered in the inner palace, located almost at the heart of Khanbalik. Entry was restricted to the highest-born and that, too, by invitation only. None dared venture there of their own accord. The guardians of the palace, hand-picked soldiers of the imperial guard, habitually shot down crows flying overhead as part of their archery practice, fuelling local rumours about its impregnability. The palace staff and the ladies who entered its portals remained within for the rest of their lives. It was only their mortal remains which would leave through the brass gates. From the time the palace was built, twenty years ago, many of its occupants had been born within its high walls. Temur had heard that only Marco Polo, the barbarian traveller, enjoyed unrestricted access to the palace. For Temur, the day marked a special occasion: it was the first time he had been summoned to the palace. As he rode up the wide, cobbled streets, avoiding puddles from the previous night’s rain, he shivered again. Perhaps, he thought, news of the latest uprising in Annam had reached the Great Khan?

Temur had left his own bodyguard behind and as he approached the brass gates, he could see the archers on the towers position themselves, their arrows trained on him. Intercepted by the guards at the gates, flanked on either side by stone figures of huge demonic lions, Temur was made to deposit his weapons before being allowed to ride through. He entered the acres of lush grounds where gardeners worked diligently on the flower beds. He was escorted by a mounted chief of the guard, a huge, bearded Uighur, who wore the heavy fur hat of his race, adding inches to his own impressive height of seven feet and dwarfing the white Arabian steed he was riding. The Uighur’s voice was surprisingly soft and gentle as he spoke the lilting dialect of the mountain people, but he carried his broad, heavy scabbard unsheathed, leaving no doubt about the inviolability of his instructions. There were fountains all around them and on a clear, sunny morning, marquees would be put up on the terraced slopes of the small hillock overlooking the man-made lake. The sullen weather had probably forced the ladies inside, but Temur could visualize the pretty picture they would have made. No one paused to greet him or even glance his way, but he felt he was being watched as he approached the palace on horseback. He sensed rather than saw the faces at the small windows pulling back into the shadows the moment he turned his gaze in their direction.

This was Khanbalik, residence of the Khan, located in Dadu, the great capital, the fabled city within a city, a place of celestial beauty built by heavenly dispensation, as revealed by the Oracle of I Ching. There had never been – nor could there ever be – something as magical in this world or in the next. It was here, to the ruler of the Yuan Dynasty, that kings and nobles from every part of the empire – Hungary, Acre, Mesopotamia, Laos and Tibet – came to pay obeisance. In the harem were women of unsurpassed beauty, their skin so translucent that wine would glisten through as it passed down their throats; women who did not venture outdoors without parasols, lest moonbeams mar their delicate complexions. On summer evenings, maidens would frolic on the terraces, playfully tossing at each other handfuls of crushed ice that had been painstakingly chipped from the high peaks and brought down carefully to the plains over many days of journey on horseback and on foot.

During the Festival of the Wind God, great kites would be launched into the sky, with men seated in them playing musical instruments to appease the gods and invite favourable winds to grace the land. When honoured guests were entertained, the game of chess would be played from the high walls overlooking the board that had been created on a small island in the pool. The chess pieces were living human beings who had to pay with their lives when the moment came for one or the other to be removed from the board. If he was in a good mood on these occasions, the Great Khan himself would dispense wine from a jade urn with a capacity of three thousand litres. In the evening, the guards burnt sandalwood logs brought back by the imperial fleet from the Malabar, positioning the pile windward from the top of the high walls so that the fragrance, wafted by the breeze, filled the palace with a perfumed haze.

At night, the imperial guard would be reinforced by a small army of great cats – lions, leopards, Siberian tigers and panthers – which prowled the grounds freely, filling the night with their muffled coughs and full-throated roars. Guests were advised against taking the morning air before these ferocious beasts had been accounted for and returned to their cages.

This was also the treasure trove of the Great Khan, where revenue collected from various corners of the empire was delivered, the yearly deposits amounting to more than the worth of many kingdoms. Gold, ivory and precious stones lay heaped on the polished marble floors. On a wall in one of the palace halls hung a huge plate of gold and ivory, engraved with a map of the known world that began at the Middle Kingdom and spread in all directions. The map also featured the mystical and heavenly lands lying within the domain of the Great Khan, who was mandated by heaven itself. It was rumoured that in earlier years, as the Great Khan passed the map, he would gaze at it and murmur idle wishes, resulting in his men saddling up and armies being sent forth in all directions known to the gods. Crossing the high mountains, riding over hot deserts and cold ones and navigating the blue oceans, they would bring yet another distant land under the heavenly yoke.

Temur and his escort, who evidently knew his way around, reached the main doorway to the palace, the servants bowing as they passed through. Numerous passages opened out into the main hallway, the entrance to each veiled with fine silk curtains. Finally, they came to a huge wooden door. Carved on it in copper was the sacred dragon serpent, its yawning jaws jutting out, its fangs drawn. The Uighur put his lips close to the snake’s head and murmured something which Temur failed to catch.

The door opened from the inside and the chief bodyguard, gesturing for Temur to enter, whispered, ‘My lord awaits you, most esteemed Governor.’

Temur nodded in acknowledgement and entered an enormous room bathed in the cheerful glow of a large fire hissing and crackling in the hearth. Set in the wooden floor at the centre of the room was a porcelain tub. It had been filled with rose-scented water and rose petals floated on its surface. Temur’s eyes went to the Great Khan, lying half submerged in the tub. Wrapped like mating snakes around his body were two nubile and naked young women attendants. Another woman, a light blue shroud covering her from head to toe, was seated on a small stool a few feet away. A man, his head covered by a cowl, stood some distance away.

Temur bowed low from the waist and, still bowed, greeted his grandfather in the approved manner.

‘Salutations to the Great Khan,’ he murmured.

‘How are you, Grandson?’

Temur looked up to meet his grandfather’s eyes and realized that he was being directed to a stool that had been placed close to the tub in anticipation of his arrival.

‘Very well, Revered Grandfather,’ he replied.

‘And how is the province of Yunnan?’

‘Its people are basking in the benevolence of Yuan rule.’

‘And the news from Annam?’

His grandfather’s voice was dangerously soft. This was the trick question Temur had expected and was loath to answer.

He took a deep breath and said with the courage of youth, ‘It is not well, Great Khan.’

The man in the tub looked shrewdly at the younger man and read the apprehension in his eyes. A half-chuckle escaped his lips.

‘Good, young man, good. I expected no less from you. They warned me I was making a mistake when I appointed you over many others, but you have proved yourself.’ The Great Khan paused and continued softly, ‘It is a large cake and in a large cake, there will be cracks.’

‘We will seal them, Great Khan. The armies are itching to do your bidding. Just give the word and we will bring you the heads of these half-men impaled on our spears,’ Temur declared with feeling.

‘Yes, Temur, it may come to that, but you will not go with the armies.’

‘Great Khan?’ Temur was puzzled.

‘You will rule in my place, beloved Grandson. It is to you that I will pass on the trust of Genghis.’ Then, almost as an afterthought, he murmured, ‘I am dying, my boy.’

Temur’s head reeled at the revelation and he felt unsteady, in danger of falling off his stool. The rumours he had heard in the city were true; the Great Khan was on his deathbed.

‘Is that what the royal physicians say, Great Khan?’ he asked. ‘We will send for others, the best from every corner of the world, my lord.’

‘The best are already in this palace, Temur,’ the Great Khan said testily. ‘I have grown weary of their ministrations.’ Then he added in a gentler voice, ‘They give me six months at the most. They lie; I have far less time left.’

There was nothing the young man could think of to say. He had contemplated this very situation – he could hardly deny it to himself – but had banished the prospect as no more feasible than a futile dream.

There was silence in the room, broken only by the splashing of water in the tub, the young attendants unmindful of the import of what was being said as they applied sandalwood and turmeric paste on the Great Khan’s rotund body.

Finally, the Great Khan spoke again. ‘Marco had told me about the Christian quest for immortality. It seems they sent their finest warriors off to bring back the cup from which their god drank. Apparently, the cup had magical qualities and the one who drank from it would become immortal.’ He waited for his grandson, who was listening intently, to nod before carrying on. ‘I do not think my soldiers will find it in time for me. No, I shall find my place alongside Genghis on the steppe. I have already dispatched your cousin, Kamala, to prepare and guard the
ordos
.’ It was a reference to the ceremonial resting place made of yellow felt.

At the mention of his cousin’s name, Temur stiffened almost against his will. His reaction did not escape the Great Khan’s eye.

‘Do not worry, young man,’ he reassured his grandson. ‘My choice is made and I have conveyed it to the Kuriltai, the assembly of princes, which is to elect the next Khan on my death. They will abide by my decision.’ He paused. ‘You will treat your cousin with justice and he shall be given what is his right.’

It was an order.

Temur bowed in assent. ‘It shall be as you wish, Great Khan.’

‘After my death, an offering is to be sent to the monastery of Sogomber Khan, the Buddha, in Lhasa. I expect it to be accompanied by a large entourage that will enjoy your official protection. They shall not, under any circumstances, be stopped or checked.’

‘Your command will be obeyed, Great Khan.’

‘Good, that is settled. There is one more thing of much importance.’ There was a twinkle in the old eyes now. ‘You will marry this young woman.’ The Great Khan now glanced at the woman in blue sitting on the stool. ‘She will be your royal consort.’ He nodded at the woman, who got up and let her cloak slip off her body and fall in a puddle at her feet.

Temur drew in his breath sharply. She was exquisite, from her large, limpid eyes and chiselled features to the full, high breasts and long, shapely legs. He tried to avert his gaze, but could not take his eyes off her.

‘I see you have no objection,’ the Great Khan observed, shaking in merriment. ‘Your marriage will take place on the tenth day of your ascent to the throne, by which time the official period of mourning will be over. You may take as many wives as you wish, young man, but the firstborn of your marriage with this woman will be your heir. Promise me this on the blood of our ancestors.’

‘I promise,’ Temur said solemnly, unable to resist glancing at the young woman who smiled and gently turned away, picking up the robe and slipping back into it.

‘Very well, Grandson. Rule well and justly. May your courage never fail you.’ He paused, seemingly lost in thought, then said, ‘Are you familiar with the sayings of our venerable ancestor Genghis Khan?’

‘Yes, Great Khan. I know every one of them by heart,’ the young man replied, his voice tremulous with feeling.

‘Good. Do not forget them.’

He waved to the younger man in polite dismissal. The interview was over.

Temur got up and bowed low, then left the room. The Uighur was waiting for him outside and escorted him to the place where his horse was tethered.