Book I
The Sharp Dagger
Prologue
Karakorum (1398 C.E.)
“Buried? How long?” Lady Goharshad peered closely at the manuscript as she stood beneath a torch among the ruins of Karakorum, her silk gown the same soft amethyst as the evening sky above.
“More than a century,” King Shahrokh traced the lines with his finger. Leather worn with age covered numerous sheaves of papyrus. Tiny specks of dust illuminated by light rose from time-worn pages.
“And we discovered it?” Lady Goharshad watched as her husband, Shahrokh Mirza, the ruler of Persia and Transoxiana, examined the voluminous cord-bound manuscript. She could hear sounds of tapping and knocking as laborers placed tiles on newly repaired walls and floors, and guilders worked their fine brushes over candelabra.
“We did not discover it. The workmen did during the renovations I ordered. It was buried in a hidden compartment under a layer of tiles that covered the floor of the atrium.”
The queen’s curiosity piqued, but she would not touch the book, caked in dust. Her husband ventured his hand and randomly opened a page. “It is in some foreign language. Let us get away from all this noise.”
She followed her husband past the stupas that bordered the vast enclosure. Before her stood palatial buildings of an era gone by; candles squatted in every niche and torches flickered between the ramparts.
“Do you believe history repeats itself?” she asked, looking around at the ancient structures.
“Yes, I believe that is true. Here,” Shahrokh walked toward an archway of masonry that led into a courtyard and the rusted iron base of a fountain. They entered the main auditorium and stood before a tall brick fireplace. Perforations here and there in the walls allowed one to view the flames in the fire pit when lit. They stepped onto the bare dirt floor with only a few blue tiles visible upon it, remnants of flooring that had been pilfered piece by piece over time. The light of a nearby torch illuminated one brick on the arch-shaped panel above the fireplace that had moved out of place.
“Time may have caused the brick to come loose!” Shahrokh said, and then quickly added, “No, it is not time that has caused this. No mortar was used in the first place to attach it to other bricks.” He gestured to an attendant accompanying them, and the young lad quickly placed one foot on the raised hearth, the other on the mantel shelf and pulled his body up by holding on to the crown molding. He then removed the loose brick, disclosing a vacant spot in the wall. Dust rose as he reached inside and excavated a small silver box, lined in red velvet. He handed the box to the king.
Shahrokh took out a turquoise talisman attached to a thin leather cord. He set aside the box and began re-examining the manuscript he was still holding, carefully turning the frayed pages. “Looks like a chronicle written in several different languages. It is mostly in some Latin script that I cannot decipher. There are segments in Chinese as well. I have no time to read this but I can have this translated if you are interested,” he said, addressing his wife.
“I certainly am. It would keep me busy while you visit the coastal towns of the Persian Gulf.”
“Wait,” he said as he walked closer to a nearby torch for a better look. “This very first page bears a line in Persian.”
“What does it say?”
“It is written as if by someone with poor knowledge of Persian calligraphy, but it is still legible.”
My name is Krisztina, but they call me Dounia which means “the world,” and my story begins years before my birth with a princess by the name of Chaka in a land that is today called China.
Chapter One
Dragon Dance
1209 C.E.
Princess Chaka’s hair, often compared to a sea of pearls, rolled over her right shoulder as she peered down from the palace balcony for a closer look at the procession. She knew her carnelian hanfu accentuated her natural pallor and cherished her time in front of the mirror as changes in her appearance indicated the blossoming of womanhood. The performers looked close enough to touch. She gazed back at the crowd and caught the rhythmic, sinuous movements of the dragon. The artificial creature, made of bamboo and cloth, undulated and lurched in a frightening way. Chaka stood motionless as the bulging eyes of the dragon looked straight at her.
As the youngest daughter of Emperor Xiangzong, Princess Chaka stood beside the other members of the royal family on the wooden lower balcony of the palace engraved with depictions of coiled dragons. She greeted with a wave of her hand the people of Tangut celebrating the anniversary of her father’s ascent to the throne. The balcony allowed a degree of intimacy between the royal family and the subjects. Behind her rose the king’s summer palace of carved teak wood with its pagoda roofing covered in a layer of gold.
The traditional dragon dance had commenced on that warm summer night and this year’s dragon was the biggest ever constructed. Rumor had it that the head of the beast rivaled the height of a tall slave, and the length of his tongue was twice the said slave’s arm. Close encounter proved the enormity of the monster.
Emperor Xiangzong wore his ceremonial attire embellished with rubies, sapphires and other precious gems sewn onto its shimmering fabric. A short white cape with black ribbon trim covered his shoulders, and a long necklace of large white pearls hung from his neck. As usual, his countenance displayed no emotion, yet his severe gaze held the enormity of his authority. The Empress smiled. A golden bouquet for a crown trembled upon her head as she turned from side to side to acknowledge the crowd. Birds and flowers embroidered in yellow and orange covered her hanfu.
One hundred members of the king’s special guards had received the honor of animating the artificial reptile in the streets of the capital as crowds of young and old looked on in amazement. They manipulated wooden poles under the dragon to create rhythm. Cries of jubilation rose as “the black-hats,” the elites, and “the red-faced people,” the peasants, followed a team of acrobats dancing around the yellow beast. Chaka waved to the crowd, fighting back an urge to scream with excitement. Never had they built a dragon so big and so life-like.
The moon had refused to put her silvery face on display that night, and the stars were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the lantern holders, with their incredible acrobatic movements, lit up the darkness as they held the attention of the dazed audience. The performers put on quite a show, moving swiftly around the dragon and between each other’s arms and legs before the flames could burn their limbs. Incense clung to the air in their wake.
The dark night obscured the figures of most dancers, dressed as mythical creatures like vermilion birds, black turtles, and white tigers. Their masked faces became visible only when they stood near the lighted torches set up for the occasion. Among the performers, some faces glistened with sweat. Chaka wondered. They must be strangers to these parts for it seems as if they cannot stand the hot and humid air. Is it possible they are spies?
She tried to convey her concerns to her mother by tugging at her hanfu and whispering in her ear. But the queen quickly dismissed Chaka’s complaints, calling it her mere imagination. Her two older sisters, who stood to the left of the king, could not have heard her. They always made sure to stand next to their royal father.
With her outstretched finger, Chaka pointed to the shadow of a horseman who appeared out of nowhere. At that very instant, the dragon’s head turned toward her in a manner that hid her from all eyes. Moving with extreme dexterity and swiftness, the rider, dressed in black, face covered except for his searching eyes, grabbed her hand and pulled her off the balcony. He mounted her right onto his horse and rode away toward a dark alley behind the palace.
Before being carried away from the scene, Chaka could see that all heads had turned toward the nimble figure of a young female acrobat who jumped over the body of the dragon. Members of the royal family and the other spectators would not notice that she was missing until the dragon’s hea
d moved, and the vacant spot where she once stood became visible.
Chaka wiggled and tore with her teeth and fingernails at the rough arm holding her. The foul-smelling brute who had grabbed her reacted by tightening his grip. She screamed as loud as she could for as long as she could. But the noises of the procession of imposters who carried the manmade dragon muffled her ceaseless cries for help.
Princess Chaka had never felt so vulnerable. She had roamed the palaces of the kingdom like a proud peacock, ordering her servants and chambermaids to tend to her every need. Now as fear took hold of her, she knew she must retain her wits to survive. She wondered who her captor was and what objective he had in mind.
The kidnapper turned into another alley. Riding bareback, he lashed his horse so hard that it flew like a Pegasus, its hooves sliding at times as it trotted full speed on the cobblestone pavement worn smooth. Suddenly he came to a stop and waited a few moments at a crossroads until another horseman carrying a large creel approached them. Before Chaka realized the extent of her predicament, the second horseman, moving with great alacrity, lifted her like a weightless plume and shoved her, body and head, into the creel.
Chaka had to squat in the woven seagrass cage used for carrying vegetables as the second rider fastened the ropes that kept the lid of the creel tightly closed. Perforations allowed her to breathe. The kidnappers must have planned this in advance and wanted her alive, maybe to exchange her for ransom. That idea made her hopeful of deliverance.
Back at the festivities, the euphoria gave way to screams of agony when it became clear that the princess was missing. The performers unmasked, showing themselves as foreign warriors from the Steppes. Arrayed as palace guards they had earlier murdered, the alien soldiers pounced on the stunned crowd. They struck the spectators, using the poles with which they had kept the dragon upright as lances to pierce their victims.
A few palace aides quickly moved the royal family to a hiding place within the palace walls; an enclosure constructed years ago to ensure their safety in the event of an ambush. Between confusion and chaos, restoring order or calling for help became difficult. The few peasants who single-handedly confronted the enemy were slaughtered.
The “performers” dispersed as quickly as they had appeared. They used their lit lanterns to set nearby buildings and farms and animals on fire. Soon every tree near the palace was ablaze. Little bursts of fire jumped from one location to another, a destructive jubilee of light.
Chapter Two
The Mongol Khan
Chaka knew that by now her family had noticed her absence, yet hope remained elusive as the second rider handed her over to a third man whose horse, well-rested and agile, carried her still trapped in the creel a long distance with ease. He finally stopped after riding for another hour or two and unburdened his load. Chaka burst out like a serpent emerging from a snake charmer’s basket and found herself within a tent-like structure.
The scent of dung burning in a fire pit placed in the middle of the tent made her nauseous. She looked up and saw a hole in the roof through which the smoke from the fire escaped. A latticework of bamboo formed the walls of the rather large makeshift enclosure, taller than the height of two men. A group of about forty warriors squatted in a circle around the fire pit. Dressed in leather suits of armor that looked far more impressive than the ragged outfits of the brutes who had dragged her there, she gathered that the men were high-ranking officers.
Chaka stood, held her arms akimbo, and stared intimidatingly at the man sitting next to the fire on a tall hassock who seemed to be their leader as if to say, what right have you?
“Ha ha,” he laughed and set in motion roars of laughter coming from all sides. The leader of the gang of kidnappers, a tall and handsome man, appeared impressed by Chaka’s defiant spirit. Her hair disheveled, she must have looked like a trapped animal. His wide grin showed that the flash of anger in her eyes had made him admire her even more.
One of the officers pointed to the man sitting on the hassock as being “Genghis Khan.” The other officers chanted “Urra” three times.
Chaka had been taught several ethnic languages and could understand the exchange. Quite absorbed in thought when she heard the officer’s words, she almost spilled the goat milk offered to her by a slave. Without thinking, she looked up to see the reaction of the man identified as Genghis Khan. The latter smiled confidently.
Genghis had rough but princely features. His piercing eyes, in a unique shade of grayish brown, were almond-shaped and looked larger than that of her countrymen. Red streaks accentuated long black hair tied with a leather cord behind his neck. Unlike the other warriors squatting around the tent, Chaka did not fear this warlord. Quite the contrary, he had a likable aura about him that reminded her of a young army commander she had once idolized as a little girl. Still, she feared she might be forced into the arms of this stranger.
Chaka felt somewhat relieved when one of the officers led her to a nearby tent after a signal from Genghis. It was rather spacious, and it provided a degree of warmth and privacy. The officer assured her that the tent remained her private abode for the time being. For that, she was thankful.
Emperor Xiangzong paced up and down in the royal chamber. Of the three dynasties that ruled different territories in China, the Tangut Kingdom in the northwest was militarily the weakest and therefore vulnerable to attacks by the more powerful Jin and Song Dynasties. The kidnapping of Princess Chaka had shattered the tranquility of the Tangut Kingdom, known as a land of seasonal rains and warm sunshine; of colored parasols and beautiful maidens. The hardworking women of the region, their feet submerged knee-deep in water and their conical hats bobbing up and down in the air, harvested fresh ears of rice from these fertile lands. The Yellow River moved its amber body languidly through the territories like a tamed snake; poets recited tributes by its side and musicians paid homage to it as if it were a golden-haired maiden. Painters depicted its movements in the most complimentary manner and tried to outdo one another in showing its graceful waves. The presence of foreign forces, however, threatened to jar this tranquil image.
Jianjun, a Tangut master spy who had spent most of his nearly fifty years of life pursuing the enemies of the kingdom, had requested a private audience with the emperor. Jianjun informed the emperor that the combatants who had penetrated the kingdom of Tangut were sent there by their leader, a man called Genghis Khan. “Genghis has managed to bring the tribes of the Steppes that roamed the landlocked area between Manchuria and Altay Mountains under a united rule, calling their new country Mongolia.”
“They are a bunch of nomads. The number of our warriors far exceeds theirs,” the emperor interjected.
“That is true, but they use every trick imaginable to win against larger armies and well-trained cavalries,” Jianjun countered. “Some are children of the wilderness. Growing up in a fierce environment and flourishing among wild beasts has taught them to embrace nature in its most dramatic expression. Freezing temperatures bring joy to their hearts. Torrential rains are music to their ears. They use the rivers of the Steppes as bathing grounds and see the sky above as their deity.”
“Are you suggesting that we cannot defeat them?”
“No. But I am concerned. Strains of day-to-day hunting give the body of a Mongol warrior greater flexibility and strength than any civilized fighter, and no daily exercises of sophisticated armies could match the level of exertions the Mongols undergo in uncultivated grasslands. Strong and robust, they are not easily overcome by ordinary soldiers. With a keen awareness of their surroundings, they sense every little twig’s movement and can see far away, detecting hidden creatures among branches,” the spy warned.
Emperor Xiangzong’s long figure bent over as he sat behind his desk of black lacquered wood. Its shiny surface reflected his image like a mirror. His needle-like slanted eyebrows moved closer together as he furrowed his brow in contemplation, staring at his
reflection. If it weren’t for his long, thin mustaches, the doughy pallor of his face and his small red lips would give him a child-like appearance.
Since Chaka’s kidnapping, the Mongols had placed the capital, Yinchuan, under siege and food was running out. Palace spies had followed the trail of the three horsemen to the Khan’s tent. They had informed the emperor that the Mongols had earlier attempted to flood the capital by changing the course of the Yellow River. Failing miserably at this attempt, the Mongols had ended up submerging their own base instead, a temporary setback.
Emperor Xiangzong spoke after a few minutes of contemplation. “I have heard about the Mongol attacks on our foes, and I am considering turning these warriors into allies to use against our more potent enemies.”
The spy agreed.
The dilemma had occupied the emperor’s mind for days. The kidnapping of the princess, although a heart-wrenching matter, provided an opportunity for negotiations. Now that the emperor knew where his daughter was, he could stage a rescue mission. But being a cunning statesman who placed the well-being of his kingdom before all other considerations, he always kept in mind the result of any action. Therefore, he decided to send an envoy carrying a communiqué for Genghis Khan which read:
“You can have my daughter’s hand in marriage, provided that you honor our traditions and allow for a formal wedding at the capital. In return, we hope to become allies of the great Mongolian warriors to fend both nations against external foes.”
The Sky Worshipers Page 2
