Pleased for some inexplicable reason, the man decided that when they were both awake, he would interrogate the young woman over the diamond on her shoulder. With a smile on his mouth, Ivo was asleep too.
Chapter 6
Tiziana Bembo Badoer pressed the paper to her chest. After eleven months of separation she had received a letter hurriedly written by Cosimo, taking advantage of the fact that his caravan had met in its road a merchant who was on his way back to Venice, with little merchandise left and enough jewels and pearls after a profitable stay . The merchant, in fact a very distant cousin of the Bembo family and who knew Andrea of his childhood, had given Tiziana guarantees that the young man and his uncle were very well and satisfied with the results of their journey.
The letter, after swearing that he infinitely missed her, extended to the wonders of Asia and in particular mentioned the beauty of Asian women. Tiziana had references to them in social sewing meetings with other merchants’ wives and had prejudices that placed them as shameless and lewd. Her heart groaned at the thought of her poor child subjected to the depraved influences of those foreigners. When she went to share her fears and anxiety with her husband, he burst into an unexpected laugh and for all comments he replied.
“Bravo for your brother Andrea.”
Annoyed by her husband's attitude-though not overly surprised-Tiziana changed her clothes and went to the nearby church to discuss the matter with the priest, a Neapolitan named Don Girolamo, and seek his advice.
Upon completing her presentation, including Cosimo's letter and her husband's reaction as well as the alleged complicity of her brother, the woman saw the face of the priest ignite, his eyes lit like blight and finally after a couple of attempts of speaking in which his tongue was stuck of indignation, began his philippic.
"Venice, an atheist and heretic city, ignorant of the divine will! Driven away from the sacred ways by merchants without standards, only concerned about the size of their bags and the cult of Mammon. Cursed you are for evermore and may burn in hell that lead you to your destruction! Now they have brought this poor woman's son into the ignominy and sins of the flesh. As is his custom the Enemy uses the infected womb of women, especially foreigners to corrupt those who should be saints.
Don Girolamo was about to continue his diatribes when Tiziana rose, her hands clasping her throat as her face grew livid. She lifted the rim of her skirt and hurried out of the church without knowing what she was doing. The contact with the fresh air of the lagoon brought her partially to reality and then headed straight for her house, distant only four blocks.
When her husband saw her enter as a soul carried by the devil he stopped her holding the woman in his arms and forced her to drink a glass of water, after which he demanded to tell him everything that had happened.
Tiziana was finally able to put some order in her ideas and with shame narrated her interview with the priest and the state of confusion in which she had been left.
Pietro Badoer was astonished not so much by the sayings of Don Girolamo as by the fact that his wife had gone to consult him for a familiar subject.
"I cannot believe you went to see that Neapolitan priest. He hates all Venetians for our prosperity. In the council we believe that he is a spy of the Papal States and of the Pope in our city.
Tiziana gasped again, shook her head and with a wisp of voice exclaimed.
"How could I be so stupid?"
Pietro and his wife looked at each other deeply as they had not done for months, and then burst out in unison in a loud laugh that forced the butler to come up to see if everything was all right.
The second time Lian woke up first. It was then her turn to sit up partially and look at his bed-mate. She watched his straight nose, his prominent chin, his red hair and beard of several days, and the length of her body, which exceeded the dimensions of the bed. Perhaps feeling unconsciously observed, Ivo also opened his eyes and saw what seemed to him a dream picture in front of them. He smiled and said.
“What? What's up? What do you think when you look at me?”
“ I think that my grandmother, the mother of my mother, is right about the barbarians.”
"The barbarians?" Do I look like a barbarian to you?”
"We Chinese people consider barbarians all those who are not Chinese ... and we are not mistaken by much.”
"That sounds racist and sectarian. Well, what your grandmother says about the barbarians?
"That the Chinese girls should be warned against those tall devils, with red hair, sunken green eyes and long noses.”
"And what should they be prevented against? That the barbarian devils violate them?”
“Not exactly. That they seduce them. Devils are hungry for the skin and flesh of Chinese girls and they always engender their little demons in their wombs.”
“ That is, they destroy the racial purity of the Chinese people. Definitely racist.”
"Is that wrong?"
“Of course.”
"Look at the inhabitants of Liqian. What do you see?”
Ivo burst into laughter.
“Touché. Maybe you should listen to your grandmother.”
"I should have, but I'm afraid it's a bit too late for that today."
Chapter 7
A week before they had left Kaschgar, the site where the two branches of the Silk Road that traverse the north and the south of the Taklamakan desert meet. They had followed the south route because on the previous trip Andrea had chosen the north and now wanted to explore the area of the Yurungkasch River and its deposits of jade, material whose crafts were highly prized in Europe, but in reality his main purpose was very different .
Taklamakan is a gigantic desert of dunes surrounded by mountains from which several rivers flow that provide water to a series of oases that line the Silk Road and end up pouring the rest of its waters into the desert where they disappear swallowed by the sands and evaporation.
Andrea Bembo, his nephew Cosimo, their thirty Asian assistants including guides, armed guards and pawns as well as a long caravan of camels had reached Yarkant, on the banks of one of the rivers bearing the same name and of which, as in the other oases, the Chinese had progressively displaced the Mongols and Tibetans thus consolidating their control of the Route Of Silk, of enormous importance for the economy of the Celestial Empire.
Andrea had devised a plan which, if successfully carried out, would be of great importance to the success of the expedition, and bring incalculable economic consequences favorable to Venice and prejudices to China. Through his emissaries he had made contact before leaving Europe with a Uyghur merchant with whom he had already done business on previous trips. The business was of high risk since the process of making the silk was a state secret in the Celestial Empire and those who had tried to steal it had been decapitated.
Silk is a natural fiber produced by several insects, in particular by the larvae of the Bombyx Mori butterfly, commonly called silkworm. In the classic industrial process the worms lay their eggs on a specially prepared paper substrate and after hatching the resulting caterpillars are fed with mulberry leaves until they reach maturity with a considerable size and then begin to spin a cocoon by secreting through their heads a viscous liquid covered by a resin that then solidifies in contact with the air. The caterpillar ends completely surrounded by a cocoon that has a protective biological function. In the process of industrialization the buds are boiled by removing the caterpillars-except those necessary to give rise to the next generation of worms-and the silk filaments are gathered into threads, which are then rolled up for use.
By the time Andrea and his nephew traveled through Asia the process described was known to very few people and no one had been able to obtain live worms to begin production outside China. It was therefore a kind of "state-of-the-art" technology of the area and of the time.
Aware of the risks of the plan Andrea had decided to separate from his nephew, leaving him in the care of his personal assistant, a fearsome Persian w
arrior named Bahadur. This personage was a homosexual that served as concubine to the Venetian in the extended days in which he was distanced of the women and that owed to him total obedience.
Andrea left for the south, entering the Kunlun Shan mountain range to meet his Uyghur associate and carry out the exchanges that would enable him to obtain two live silkworms. He was followed by five ferocious Mongolian warriors who were prepared to fight any contingency that might come along the way. Meanwhile Cosimo accompanied by the bulk of the caravan led by Bahadur continued his course towards Khotan, the next step on the Silk Road. There they should wait Andrea to join them.
Three months had passed since the departure of Andrea and his reduced group and two and a half months since Cosimo arrived with the caravan to Khotan. Bahadur had already warned him that it was probable that the merchant would never return because the time to carry out the exchange and return was long exceeded. The Persian still had not wanted to alarm the young man but had reasoned that if Andrea Bembo had been caught by the Chinese it was a matter of time that these began to look for the rest of the expedition and that in fact all the foreigners would be suspicious to the zealous eyes of the Emperor´s representatives.
Cosimo, who had already tested the female company in earlier stages, felt the action of the hormones that gave him a constant restlessness and had rejected the insinuations of Bahadur who was willing to give him the service. He had finally found solace in a brothel located in a small oasis some distance from Khotan, surrounded by the sands of the Taklamakan desert. There he had tried several of the pupils and finally had chosen a prostitute of Mongolian lineage called Gerel of volcanic instincts that satisfied all the needs and fulfilled all the fantasies of the young man. Gerel, a mature woman, had grown fond of Cosimo, and at one point they had both gone to the camp where the woman's relatives lived, a group of wagons deep into the dunes, on the banks of a stream that disappeared just beyond the sands. The Mongol group, in fact a horde of bandits and their families and their cattle, was commanded by an outlaw named Ganzorig, a well known warrior of formidable appearance whom his men followed with devotion. Cosimo had been invited to have dinner with them in what turned out to be a bacchanalian in which he ate and drank without measure. The Venetian young patrician had at first rejected the uncivilized ways of the Mongols, but during the course of the two-day party all inhibitory barriers eventually fell, particularly after seeing Enkhtuya, the beautiful young daughter of the horde leader who had also laid eyes on the boy.
At the next noon, when Cosimo and Gerel were barely recovering from the hangover, they woke up startled by shouts coming from outside the tent where they had spent the night together. They both left the dwelling and saw several Mongols bringing a man they had imprisoned as he approached the camp. Alarmed Cosimo recognized the newcomer whose face was bloodied as well as his arms and torso.
"Bahadur, what happened to you? Have the Mongols hurt you?”
"It was not them, but the Chinese of the Emperor's representative." The Persian lowered his eyes.
“What happened? Tell me.” Urged the Venetian.
"I'm sorry Cosimo ... a week ago the Chinese caught your uncle and his Uyghur partner when they were closing the deal for the silkworms ... both were executed on the spot. They did not take long to go through the oases in search of the rest of the expedition and finally found us. All the guides and pawns were beheaded immediately and I could barely escape making my way with my scimitar and cutting heads with it. I have left a trail of decapitated Chinese behind my steps so that they have paid a high price, but the fact is that your entire expedition has ended in the worst possible way. You have saved yourself by coming to this camp of which the Chinese have no knowledge.”
Chief Ganzorig had approached and one of his men had translated the conversation.
The warrior meditated a few moments during which the heart of Cosimo hung from a thread, and then he spoke on his language in a hoarse voice. Unexpectedly, Gerel addressed the chief, engaging in a bitter argument. At that moment the young Enkhtuya approached and addressed her father in a firm voice. Ganzorig was red with anger at the argument with the two women but finally waved his arms in the air and left. The rest of the Mongols who had surrounded them dispersed throughout the camp except Gerel and Enkhtuya.
“What happened? What was all this argument about?” Cosimo asked Gerel.
"Upon hearing of what happened in Khotan, Chief Ganzorig wanted to hand over you and Bahadur to the Chinese or at least to expel you from the camp so as not to create a problem with the Emperor's men, but we opposed him calling him coward."
"Did you call the boss of the horde coward in front of his men?" Cosimo's face reflected his perplexity. "And what happened then?"
"As you have seen Enkhtuya approached and demanded his father to let you stay in the camp.”
"What was her reason for asking him that?"
"That she wants you for her. As her husband.”
Cosimo could not believe what he heard.
"How is it that a woman working in a brothel calls the warlord a coward?" And how is it that a young woman with whom I have not spoken a word because I do not know her language claims me as her husband and gets her father to accept her request?”
"You do not understand the role of Mongol women, and more important you do not know Enkhtuya.”
“What do you mean?”
"She is the worthy daughter of her father. She always takes what she wants ... directly.”
Once he was alone Cosimo reflected on the drastic change in his situation. That was the first serious crisis en his young life. From his departure from Venice a year earlier he had been potentially connected with everything that had represented his life only through his uncle and the caravan. Indeed, the expedition that had brought them to Central Asia was both the means that would bring them back, their vital connection with their family, their home, and their culture. Now his uncle had been beheaded and the expedition scattered or annihilated. Only the situation of the moment he was living in, without plans or alternatives, remained in his life. It was only a young man uprooted in the vastness of the desert surrounded by breathtaking mountains.
A couple of weeks later the Mongolian wedding ceremony was held. After a new feast and libation of a wine made with fermented milk Enkhtuya and Cosimo, who had already begun to exchange some words in the language of the horde, retired to a tent that Ganzorig had given them as his wedding present. The girl proceeded to undress immediately and urged the Venetian to do the same. They both roamed their bodies, and in a moment the girl asked.
“ What is this stain that you have at the base of the neck?”
Chapter 8
When she awoke again to the new day Lian realized that Ivo had already gotten up and was dressed. With her usual insight the girl perceived that the man had a distinct air on his face, as someone who has made up his mind.
"Is something wrong?" She asked with some uncertainty.
“No, nothing. Since last night I wanted to ask you a question.”
“Tell me what you want to know.”
"I noticed you have a rather peculiar spot on the junction between the neck and the right shoulder.”
“So it is. Is it unpleasant for you to see it?
“Not at all. Just...”
Ivo hesitated, knowing that his question would entangle him in dangerous ways.
"Tell me at once what happens to you."
"It's just that the stain is familiar to me ... but in a completely different context.”
"That" context "... Is it the neck of another woman?
Lian saw with a mixture of jealousy and amusement that Ivo stammered without knowing what to answer.
"I'll take those babbles like a yes."
"But you have not told me anything about the stain."
"You did not ask me anything."
The logic in the woman's responses permanently made the Italian stumble. He shook his head and Lian could read in his face that h
e was wondering why he had gotten into that mess. Resignedly the woman added.
"It is a hereditary stain, my paternal grandfather had it in the same place. Actually I doubt very much that the one you know is identical to this one because it is very rare and only exists in members of my family.” She stretched her neck in order to show the spot.
“ As you can see that it is very symmetrical, with strangely straight edges and has a perfect rhomboidal shape.”
"That's why it called my attention." The man answered. "The one I know is identical.”
At the edge of a jealous rage Lian tangled her foot in his leg and pulled him to the bed where she was still lying. The man let her do but when he placed his head on the pillow next to hers instead of the expected cuddles he asked again.
"Are you sure you're one hundred percent of Chinese descent?"
“What? Why you ask?”
"Do not answer my question with another question.”
"Well ... there were always rumors in my family that we have Mongolian ancestors... I already told you, now you tell me why you ask.”
"You're very tall compared to Chinese women. Are the Mongols tall?
“Not much. True, my father and grandfather are taller than the average Han. Satisfied?”
"You never told me anything about your family."
"You never asked me. And now you tell me. Who do you know that has a stain just like mine?”
Ivo looked embarrassed by the question but finally answered.
"The woman I've lived with in Venice. A lady of the aristocracy of the city.”
"And you think I descend from the Venetian nobility?" Asked ironically Lian. “Do I look Italian?”
"No," He frankly answered,
"Are you not looking only for women who have this exact stain?" The question had a playful tone.
"Actually I've also had some without marks."
The Challenge of the Legion Page 4
