The Divining

by Wood, Barbara

  The white-haired official digested this piece of logical reasoning and, finding no argument, moved on to the complex issue of courtly protocol.

  While the stomachs of Timonides and Primo growled and gurgled, and Nestor wondered if they would be eating noodles, Sebastianus listened politely to the many rules of etiquette and assured the man that he and his friends would follow them as best they could. But when Noble Heron arrived at the subject of a ritual called kowtow, Sebastianus balked.

  To demonstrate, Noble Heron spoke sharply to one of the household servants who, before the astonished eyes of the foreign visitors, dropped to his knees, placed his hands on the floor, and touched his forehead to the ground. The servant jumped up and repeated the gesture eight more times in quick succession.

  Noble Heron said with a smile, "That is how you and your friends will show respect to the Lord of Heaven."

  "Great Zeus," Timonides murmured, and Primo shouted, "I will not scrape the floor and lift my arse for any uncivilized barbarian, king or no!"

  The first translator, a citizen of Soochow who was fluent in Kashmiri, went pale and was too afraid to pass the insult to the second translator, who already gathered from the Roman's tone that his words were disrespectful and dangerous.

  Sebastianus explained to Noble Heron, "We understand your desire for us to show proper respect to your emperor. And we intend to do just that. But as citizens of Rome and agents of our own emperor, it would be treasonous for us to kowtow to your king, for that would mean our emperor is a subject of your sovereign. I am certain that, were the situation reversed, Emperor Ming would not want his agents kowtowing to the monarch of another land."

  "This is true," Noble Heron said, but his wispy white beard quivered. "Nonetheless, any breach of protocol means instant death and, as miserable and unworthy as my poor head is, I am not yet ready to part with it."

  Sebastianus smiled. "Do not worry, my esteemed friend. We are Romans and therefore men of reason. We are amenable to compromise."

  They passed through many gates and doors, around many screens and across vast courtyards before they were finally led up the hundred steps to the imperial throne room. Sebastianus and his three friends, followed by the translators, walked along a polished floor between rows of red-lacquered columns, between which silent people stood in flowing silk robes, hands hidden in sleeves, watching the procession with keen eyes. Both men and women were present, the men wearing their long hair tied up in a knot beneath black silk caps, the women bearing intricate coiffures decorated with pearls and tassels. They watched in hushed curiosity as the strangely clad visitors walked sedately behind Noble Heron.

  When they neared the dais upon which the royal couple sat, young women in scarlet and blue robes held unfolded fans to their faces and whispered, their almond eyes fixed upon Sebastianus and his short, bronze-colored hair.

  A gong was rung, priests in robes and elaborate headdresses appeared with censers giving off pungent smoke, and they walked in circles while the gong sounded and an unseen crier called out spells and the names of gods. While the cleansing and sanctifying ritual was conducted, Sebastianus frankly studied the man he had come thousands of miles to see.

  The emperor and consort were as still as statues as they sat upon their elaborate rosewood thrones, their robes made of such a dazzling yellow silk that they looked like a twin sunrise. Ming wore a curious crown made of a stiff black board with a beaded fringe hanging on front and back, his long hair drawn up into an elaborate coiffure under the crown. Ma, young and pretty, with a heavily painted face, wore her hair in such an elaborate fashion, with jade pins and ebony sticks supporting intricate ornaments and jewelry, that her slender neck looked as if it could barely support such a weight. Like their courtiers and statesmen and attending nobles, the imperial pair exposed no part of their bodies except for their faces, from the slippered feet on golden footstools, to the voluminous silk sleeves hiding their hands, and the bright red, rolled collars beneath their jaws.

  At the side of Consort Ma stood a group of graceful young ladies, elegantly coiffed and draped in flowing silk. They appeared to guard a bamboo screen, behind which Sebastianus had learned from Noble Heron that the emperor's mother, Dowager Empress Yin, would be seated, unseen yet seeing.

  When Noble Heron indicated where Sebastianus and his companions were to stop, the translator from Soochow and his colleague from Kashmir immediately fell to the floor to prostrate themselves before the sovereign. The man who spoke Persian and Latin, a native of Pisa, remained standing.

  Sebastianus murmured to Timonides and Primo, "Just follow my lead." Through his translators he said to Ming, "Your Noble and Exalted Majesty, we come in peace and in the name of the Nero Caesar, Emperor of Rome. According to the laws and customs of my country, all citizens of Rome are equal, with no man above another, not even our emperor, although we do address him as First Citizen. We do not kowtow to our Caesar, we do not even bow to him, but stand before him as equals. But my friends and I wish no disrespect nor offense, and so we are honored to bow to Your Majesty as we would to no other."

  Sebastianus bent slightly from the waist and gave a curt nod. Timonides and Primo did likewise, while Nestor merely giggled, and when they straightened, a deathly silence hung over the court.

  The Lord of Ten Thousand Years remained unmoving on his throne, his face impassive, with not a ripple in the many layers of silk and satin and embroidery that impressively covered his person. No one moved. Not a breath was heard.

  Emperor Ming blinked. His voice was young and sharp and full of command when he finally spoke, "You bring trade goods to Luoyang. Are you a merchant?"

  Although the question was abrupt and somewhat rude, Sebastianus had been expecting it. Noble Heron had briefed him on Chinese social hierarchy, which began with the royal family at the top, followed by the intellectual-scholars called mandarins, after whom came the highly respected farmer, since being a peasant working the land was considered the most honorable way to make a living. Merchants were on the lowest rung of the social ladder and greatly despised, in the Chinese thinking that it was dishonorable to make money off other people. And so it would be dishonorable for such a man to dare to approach the Lord of Ten Thousand Years.

  "I am an ambassador, Your Majesty, the personal agent of my sovereign. My caravan brings gifts to the people of China. I also bring greetings from my emperor, who extends a hand of friendship to the esteemed ruler of this great land. Further, I have come on my own quest, Your Majesty, and that is to seek the wisdom of your philosophers and learned men. I offer not only an exchange of cultural goods but of ideas and knowledge."

  The emperor smiled, and seemed to relax a little. "It is a welcome and honorable exchange, Sebastianus Gallus. Tell us, where are your ancestors buried?"

  "Far from here, in my home country."

  "Who are your gods?"

  "My faith rests in the stars, Your Majesty. It is my hope that the Lord of Ten Thousand Years will grant me the right to visit with his esteemed astrologers."

  "Our Great Sage, whose name it is taboo to speak, taught us that learning is the highest ideal. It will be our honor to grant you your wishes, Sebastianus Gallus. And in return, you will honor us with knowledge of your country, which you call Rome."

  The audience ended and the guests were escorted to another vast chamber lined with crimson columns. Here, low tables were set with platters and goblets, and Sebastianus and his companions waited patiently as much courtly protocol was followed while the royal pair, then the dowager, and then the courtiers took their places.

  While musicians hidden behind a screen played zithers and flutes, drums and bells, gongs, chimes, and wooden clappers, creating delicate exotic melodies that made the men from Rome think of mythical lands, and dancing girls performed in long graceful robes with sleeves that fluttered like birds, the emperor and his guests feasted on baked owl and bamboo shoots, lotus roots, and panther's breast. Acrobats and jugglers performed as platters were bro
ught out, each more fanciful than the last, and the rice wine flowed.

  During a demonstration of a martial art called kungfu, Noble Heron was summoned to Emperor Ming's table, where he kowtowed three times before receiving a message, which he quickly brought back to Sebastianus. "The Lord of Ten Thousand Years will be honored to look at maps of your empire, honorable guest, with locations of cities and military camps."

  "Please inform His Majesty that I am not able to provide such information, as I am not a military man."

  Noble Heron returned to his sovereign, kowtowed again, delivered the reply and received another message and returned. And thus the exchange was conducted.

  "My Lord says that as a trader, Honorable Gallus, you know rivers, borders, towns. He would be delighted to see these things, and their exact placement within your empire. My Lord will provide cartographers, artists, calligraphers, and all the paper and parchment you desire. He will place as many people at your command as you need, and as many months or years as you need. Your comfort is My Lord's greatest concern, as is your spiritual need. And so he will generously allow you to build a shrine to your ancestors here in Luoyang, for a man must honor his ancestors."

  The three men from Rome digested this bit of news along with sweet glazed pork and curried rice, and they understood the deeper meaning of what the emperor had just said.

  Sebastianus, Primo, Timonides, and Nestor were now prisoners of the Chinese empire.

  31

  T

  HEY WERE CALLED "SOCIAL FLOWERS" and their sole purpose was to give sexual pleasure to the Emperor's guests.

  Little Sparrow was one such young lady in the royal court at Luoyang, a beautiful daughter of nobility schooled in the erotic arts, such as the Twenty-Nine Positions From Heaven to Earth. She specialized in "sharing the peach" and "cutting the sleeve," and had kept the Emperor's guests satisfied with these exquisite arts since she was thirteen years old.

  She was twenty now and had managed these past seven years to avoid breaking the number-one rule of Social Flowers—never to fall in love. Her sisters in the dormitory had warned her against it, and she had never thought it would happen. But as Little Sparrow lay in Heroic Tiger's arms, she thought she could happily listen to him talk all night.

  It didn't matter that she didn't understand a word he said. She loved the sound of his voice, the rich timbre, the exotic syllables that tumbled from his lips, the utter foreign-ness of his speech. He always talked for a while after they took pleasure, filling the perfumed evening with words brought from far away, while she lay in his strong arms, wishing the night would never end.

  They lay on a mattress filled with goose down, the sheets made of silk, while a blind slave kept the air moving with the constant sway of a magnificent feather fan. The lovers were otherwise alone in the bedchamber, but they could hear the voices and music of the royal household drift over the garden wall. Heroic Tiger spoke, she imagined, of his home far away in the west. And she silently thanked the gods for this bronze-haired man to whom she had given her heart.

  The role of Social Flower was a respected and dignified one, and it was a great honor to live at the royal court and serve as a pleasure-girl for important visitors. Only the daughters of the most noble families were chosen. Selection was rigid: a girl's looks, comportment, health, and ability to please a man were judged. In the case of Little Sparrow, she possessed a delicate round face, a smooth unblemished complexion, a slim, willowy body, small hands and feet. Her family had rejoiced when she was selected out of a hundred candidates. The rules were complex, and each girl was rigorously schooled in modesty and discretion, proper decorum. Her guest's pleasure was her primary aim. What she herself felt was of no importance. Once a newly recruited girl was chosen, she was moved into a special dormitory overseen by eunuchs, where she lived out her life in luxury and ease, with no other thought than how to decorate her hair or improve the painting of her eyebrows. When she was called to pay a visit to a guest, she went for the time required, did not speak unless spoken to, and returned afterward to her cot in the dormitory.

  Little Sparrow was not her real name. When the Chief Eunuch had introduced her to the esteemed guest from a place called Rome, the visitor could not pronounce her name, for it was long and meant "she who awaits a little brother," as her parents had hoped for a son. And so she had told the eunuch to give the westerner her "milk" name, given to babies in their first year of life, a temporary name, as many infants did not live long. Her parents had called her Little Sparrow and only the man from the west now called her that.

  By the same token, she could not pronounce the foreigner's name— Sebastianus—and so she called him Heroic Tiger, for that was how he was in bed.

  But it was not for his sexual prowess that she had fallen in love with him. Unlike former guests of the Emperor to whom she had given pleasure, Heroic Tiger treated her with kindness. He smiled at her, stroked her hair, asked her how she was feeling. To other men, esteemed ambassadors and princes who were given royal hospitality when they came to Luoyang, Little Sparrow had been a piece of furniture—something to relieve the weariness of travel and then set aside. So she had reached the age of twenty without having borne even a mild affection for any of the men she had pleasured.

  And then, six months ago, she had been selected to be Heroic Tiger's bedmate, and in that time she had surrendered her heart to him. But she kept her love for this foreigner a secret. She told none of her friends, and did not bare her heart even to Heroic Tiger himself.

  And as she knew he was never going to be allowed to leave Luoyang, she prayed that when she grew old and was no longer desirable in bed, he would keep her as a companion.

  A distant gong sounded the midnight hour, and she knew it was time to leave. As always, Heroic Tiger kissed her tenderly on the forehead and rolled over to go to sleep. But as she dressed, she heard a knock on the outer door, and when Heroic Tiger left the bed to see who it was, Little Sparrow heard an urgent exchange of words.

  When she saw the big ugly westerner named Primo stride into the chamber, followed by one of Heroic Tiger's translators, and a man who wore the robes and colors of a nobleman from a southern province, she gathered her clothes to her naked breast and slipped behind a privacy screen where she could eavesdrop.

  She recognized the fourth man in the group. He was Bold Dragon, and everyone knew of his political ambitions.

  HIS FAMILY WAS POWERFUL AND RICH, with many friends, and, as she listened, Little Sparrow quickly grasped that he was here to offer a means of escape to the westerners. She suspected it was a way to undermine the emperor's power rather than an act of kindness. For these foreign "guests" to escape so easily from the Emperor's clutches would cause Ming to lose face.

  Little Sparrow held her breath as she listened to a scheme emerge from the words the translator spoke—Bold Dragon boasting that he knew how to get Heroic Tiger out of Luoyang and back to the western borders, but that it would cost a high price. He did not need gold or riches, the young nobleman said. And as he was doing this at great personal risk, the reward would have to be something very desirable indeed.

  When Heroic Tiger offered him a rare and potent aphrodisiac, Little Sparrow saw that he suddenly had Bold Dragon's attention.

  She watched as a curious scene unfolded. Heroic Tiger went to a locked chest and brought out a cloth sack. He opened it and showed Bold Dragon the contents, letting him sniff them and feel some of the stuff on his fingertips. Heroic Tiger then took the teapot that was simmering with hot water, poured it into a cup, and sprinkled some of the bag's contents into the water.

  While the mixture brewed, Heroic Tiger said, "I met a man in Babylon. He told me he had a farm in distant Ethiopia which lies near the source of the Nile. He noticed one day that his goats were extraordinarily frisky, and mating almost constantly. He watched them over a few days, and found that they were eating the berries off what he had thought was a useless bush. He picked some berries and tried to eat them, but they were
inedible for a man. And so he roasted them in a fire, and then ground them to a gritty powder. Boiling this powder in water provided a bitter brew, but he drank it down, wondering if the berries would have the same effect on him as they had on his goats.

  "His experiment worked. Within a short while, the farmer felt himself grow younger, more invigorated, and with more energy than he had felt in years. He immediately sought out his wife, and delighted her for days. The Ethiopian then took his discovery to Babylon, where I encountered him. I tasted the brew and indeed felt its stimulating affects. And now, my honored guest, you will experience this remarkable elixir for yourself."

  Heroic Tiger gave it to Bold Dragon to drink, taking a sip first to prove it was not poison.

  Bold Dragon sipped and pulled a face.

  "Drink it all," Heroic Tiger said, while the ugly one named Primo and the translator looked on.

  Bold Dragon drained the cup, smacked his lips and said, "I feel nothing."

  "It takes a short spell."

  The four stood in silent anticipation as Little Sparrow watched from behind the screen. Bold Dragon looked down at himself, then ran his hand over his groin. He frowned. "I have drunk only brown water."

  "Patience, my friend. How do you plan to get us out of the city?"

  "I can arrange for it tomorrow. You and your companion will meet me at—"

  "It is not just for me and Primo. All my men are to leave."

  Bold Dragon's eyebrows shot up. "All your men? That is over a hundred, I believe."

  "I will not leave anyone behind."

  Bold Dragon gave this some thought, and as he did, he raised his hand to rub his nose. But his hand shook. He held it out and the trembling increased. He whispered an oath that the interpreter did not translate. And then he said, "I am feeling something! I feel ... invigorated!"