PART I TlMUR-I LENKH Chapter 4
Firuz Ihbal stared at the black-clad foreigner and scowled, his moustaches bracketing his mouth as if to emphasize his displeasure. "You have not yet explained why you are sponsoring a second caravan. Your first venture was questionable enough, but now you say a second one is in order. " He sat back on his elaborately carved ivory chair that was not quite a throne and rested the tips of his fingers together, his eyes half-closed as he contemplated Sanat Ji Mani. At thirty-six, he was at the height of his power, and he knew it; he also knew he would not have many more years to enjoy his prestige and position as he did now, and was determined to make the most of it.
"If I did not believe that a caravan to China would be worthwhile, I would not ask to be allowed to sponsor one," Sanat Ji Mani said patiently, not the least intimidated by Firuz Ihbal's off-putting manner.
"But why do you believe it will be worthwhile? You yourself admit that it is unlikely that your first caravan will be able to reach the cities you intended it should. " Firuz Ihbal sat forward a bit, as if he saw something suspicious about Sanat Ji Mani. Here in the audience chamber of the Sultan's palace, he was used to maintaining his authority with nothing more than a nod of his head, but there was something about the foreigner that perplexed him and made him wonder if he was truly as much master here as he believed he was. "You have proved you are a man of means, but you cannot continue to give away gems and gold forever. When you can no longer sponsor caravans and companies of soldiers for the Sultan, you will have to turn to our enemies in order to make your way in the world. "
"When I cannot meet my obligations, I will sell my house and depart for whatever destination you may deem proper," said Sanat Ji Mani. "Until that time, you will have to admit that I have much to offer a merchant like Rustam Iniattir. "
"Who is a Parsi and a Zarathustran," said Firuz Ihbal condemningly. "And has many caravans on the roads of the world. "
"Who is willing to undertake the ventures as no Muslim would do," Sanat Ji Mani pointed out. "I mean no disrespect, Firuz Ihbal: you and I both know that there are sites where the followers of the Prophet are not encouraged to go. The first caravan Rustam Iniattir sponsored with me is bound for no such places, and half the men on the trek are of your faith. But going to the east, the faithful of Islam are not as welcome as they are to the west, and it is suitable for Zarathustrans and Buddhists to lead and man the journey. The chance of trading advantageously and returning with profits and goods is far greater for the enterprise Rustam Iniattir and I are proposing than would be the case for many of your-"
Firuz Ihbal waved him to silence. He sat still, disapproval in every line of his body. Finally, he made a fussy gesture. "Your point is taken, foreigner. "
"Then you will consider it?" Sanat Ji Mani asked.
"I may," said Firuz Ihbal, one brow lifting as if in invitation.
"If I were to make a show of my gratitude for your permission?" Sanat Ji Mani suggested.
"Then I will probably consent. But I will not give you an answer for a month at the least; there is much I must consider in regard to your request. When my answer is ready, I will expect you to provide funds to arm another hundred soldiers as a sign of your earnest devotion to this city and the Sultan. Then you will have my answer. " He clapped his hands and three slaves appeared and abased themselves. "Escort this man out of the palace. "
The three slaves answered in chorus, "We serve you, Firuz Ihbal. "
Sanat Ji Mani turned away without saying anything more, for nothing was expected or wanted from him now that Firuz Ihbal had laid down his terms. He was almost to the door when a word from the dais stopped him. "Yes, Deputy of the Sultan?"
"The jewels you brought me last time were nice, but the garnets and tourmalines you provided me today are the best yet. I was not as pleased with the diamonds. " Firuz Ihbal paused, continuing in an insinuating tone, "I do not know how you come by these treasures, but I am pleased to receive them-in the Sultan's name. "
"Of course, in the Sultan's name. And if you are satisfied, what can I be but honored," said Sanat Ji Mani, ducking his head in a show of submission to the Sultan's will.
"I will expect word from you soon concerning the arming of soldiers," Firuz Ihbal added as if it had slipped his mind until now.
"It will be my pleasure to do so. What manner of soldiers did you want armed? Guards? Horsemen? Foot-soldiers? Archers?"
Firuz Ihbal gave the question due consideration. "Archers, I believe. Bows, arrows, and armor. Two bows and fifty arrows per man, I should think. "
"As you command, Firuz Ihbal, so it must be," said Sanat Ji Mani, knowing the request was outrageous and aware that protest was foolish; he prepared to leave the room. "I take my leave, and thank you for your time. "
But Firuz Ihbal was not finished quite yet. "Remember, Sanat Ji Mani, that I particularly admire garnets. And pearls-big, freshwater pearls. "
"I shall do so," said Sanat Ji Mani, bowing as the slaves surrounded him and removed him from the audience chamber. He allowed the slaves to escort him to the Foreigners' Gate, where soldiers let him out into the street where his manservant was waiting, holding Sanat Ji Mani's grey horse's reins from the saddle of his own bay.
"You were not very long," said Rojire in the Latin of Imperial Rome, aware that the direct glare of afternoon sunlight was causing Sanat Ji Mani some discomfort.
"No. Firuz Ihbal made his wants known most succinctly, and made sure I left the palace under ward. " He swung into the saddle, squinting against the light.
"There is shelter in the street," Rojire said, pointing to a narrow lane shaded with high awnings stretched between the tops of the buildings lining it. "I should have refilled the earth in your soles, my master. I am sorry I did not. "
"You need not apologize," said Sanat Ji Mani as he started his horse walking toward the shadowed lane; there were a fair number of people about for this time of day, but most of them were not hurried, and they willingly moved aside for the two mounted foreigners. "The full moon is just past, and there should still be some potency in the earth. The sun is so overwhelming here that this discomfort does not surprise me. " He glanced back, his dark eyes fixed on the Foreigners' Gate, then he looked ahead once more. "I think we are being followed. "
Rojire knew better than to look for himself. "Why do you say so?"
A train of mules clattering past made it difficult for any answer to be heard. "There is a skinny fellow who was loitering by the gate as I left-he was inside the walls of the palace and now he is outside. " Sanat Ji Mani remarked in a tone that suggested he was making minor observations. He lowered his voice as the mules went their way and the noise dropped to a more bearable level. "It may be coincidence, but-"
"But you have reason to doubt it," said Rojire, and laughed as if this remark was amusing.
"I am reminded of Sorra Celinde, who went everywhere because she was a nun and unsuspect because of her vocation, and what mischief she caused. " He smiled at this dire memory, now almost six centuries old. "She could account for her presence readily enough, and everyone accepted the coincidences, because what harm could a nun do?"
"Very well: I will be attentive to anyone paying over-much attention to us," said Rojire, and pulled his horse behind Sanat Ji Mani's as they entered the covered street. "Will you be allowed to send out the second caravan, do you think?"
"When Firuz Ihbal has settled on a large enough bribe, I should think so," said Sanat Ji Mani, raising his voice to be heard in the echoing street; it was as well they were speaking Latin, he decided as he saw faces lean over them from above.
"Will the Sultan ask for a bribe as well?" Rojire inquired.
"If he is in Delhi, no doubt he will. But if he is away, his relatives will ask it in his name," Sanat Ji Mani replied, ironically amused by his own observation.
"No doubt you are
right," said Rojire with a tight smile. "How do you propose to deal with their demands?"
"I suppose I should make more jewels, and gold. " Sanat Ji Mani was silent for a moment. "I do not know what they may demand, but I want to give them no excuse to express their discontent; some of the deputies would be delighted to imprison me and then ask for a ransom that would take everything I own, and still not be sufficient to their needs. Better to deal with their rapacity as I have done before than create opportunities for them that would end in being catastrophic for all of us. "
"You and I, and Avasa Dani?" Rojire suggested.
"And Rustam Iniattir," added Sanat Ji Mani. "Where wealth is concerned, the Sultan casts a wide net. " They were nearing the end of the narrow street and were about to cross one of the small market-squares that were set up throughout the city. "When we cross, you take the Street of the Lions, and I will take the Street of the Old Temple. That way we may be able to cause our follower to betray himself. "
"As you wish, my master," said Rojire, a note of doubt in his voice.
"You may stop and purchase something for the kitchen," said Sanat Ji Mani. "Some lentils and cheese for the staff and meat for yourself. If anything else strikes your fancy, add it to your selections. If the spy comes after me, you will have a fine opportunity to observe him. "
"Very well," Rojire agreed. "But why will you take the Street of the Old Temple?"
"Why, to offer incense to the gods," said Sanat Ji Mani, as if this were obvious. "Since I do not bow to Allah, I must show some regard for an established religion. "
"Probably," said Rojire, unwilling to concede the necessity. "But why to those gods? Why not to the Buddha?"
"Because most of the people of Delhi worship those old gods," said Sanat Ji Mani. "No one will question me for making such an offering; many foreigners do it. The Sultan's deputies would be displeased to know that I honor the Buddha, or the Parsi's God of Light, for they see those single gods as rivals to Allah. So I must respect all the gods, but I cannot make my preferences known without bringing disfavor upon me, and upon my household. "
They had reached the market-square; Rojire drew rein and called out in the language of the people, "I will not be long, my master. "
"Tend to your duties," Sanat Ji Mani responded. "I will see you at my house. " He let his horse pick his way through the crowd; he was careful not to look for the scrawny man he had noticed earlier, but contented himself with going toward the Street of the Old Temple, diagonally across the square. He entered this street without incident, making his way through the moderate press of people, and went along to the Old Temple that gave the street its name: it was a large, pillared building of great age, with elaborate friezes showing the exploits of Shiva, to whom the temple was primarily dedicated. Sanat Ji Mani dismounted and looked about for someone to hold his horse.
"I will do it, exalted sir," said a boy of about nine. He held out his hand for the reins and a coin for his service.
Sanat Ji Mani gave him both. "I will not be long. See that nothing happens to him. "
The boy looked at the small, gold coin shining in his hand. "I shall protect him with my life," he promised.
"I trust that will not be necessary," said Sanat Ji Mani, and went up the few, worn, broad steps and into the temple. Entering its shadow, he had an uneasy memory of Tamasrajasi in her temple, almost two centuries ago, and all that had happened there, the blood and the river that swept through; he shook off the recollection and gave his attention to the three large statues of Shiva that dominated the interior of the temple, flanked by Durga and Sarasvati, with niches dedicated to dozens of other gods.
He paused before the figure of Shiva, caught in the act of dancing, haloed by flames, his serene smile remote from the world. "Lord of the Dance," said Sanat Ji Mani in the language of Ashoka's time. He took two wedges of frankincense from the wallet hung on his belt and put them in the large pot of blackened brass where such offerings were made. Using one of the rushlights that hung before the statue, he lit the incense and bowed to Shiva as the first tendrils of smoke rose from his offering; he was aware that a few of the priests in the temple were watching him, their curiosity roused by his presence. As he rose, he glanced toward one of the priests, saying, "Shiva has great meaning for me, even though I am a stranger. " He did not elaborate what that meaning was.
"So have all the gods," said the priest. "In life, a man will encounter all of them in one manifestation or another. "
"Yes, he will," said Sanat Ji Mani with a smile as enigmatic as the one carved on the face of the God of Death and Transcendence.
The priest nodded toward the rising smoke. "A fine gift. "
"To show my respect," said Sanat Ji Mani, touching his palms together and bowing to the priest. "Another time I will leave an offering to other gods. "
"You will be welcome, foreigner," said the priest, managing to infuse a degree of cordiality into his voice that he rarely extended to such visitors as this one, a stranger alone.
"Thank you. " Sanat Ji Mani dropped a half-dozen gold coins into the plate set out for donations; he knew this was generous beyond what most worshipers could afford; he made no attempt to draw the priest's attention to it, but bowed again, turned, and left the temple, squinting into the sunlight as it struck him full in the face.
The boy holding his grey grinned at him. "No one has touched him, exalted sir," the lad exclaimed.
"You have done well," said Sanat Ji Mani, giving him another coin before he vaulted into the saddle; crowing with delight, the boy ran off into an alley, shouting to a companion that they would feast that night.
By the time Sanat Ji Mani reached his house, he was stunned by the torpid heat; he left his horse with one of the grooms, and, contrary to his habit, he did not groom and feed the animal himself, but sought out his shadowy bath, where he spent the greater part of the afternoon in the cool water, attempting to relieve himself of the weight of the sun. By the time he emerged, the sun was low in the western sky and preparations for night occupied the residents of Delhi.
"You were followed," Rojire said without any mitigating remarks when Sanat Ji Mani found him at the top of the house. "That stringy fellow was behind you. "
"I thought so," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I wonder to whom he reports?"
"Someone in the Sultan's palace, no doubt," said Rojire bluntly.
"No doubt," Sanat Ji Mani agreed. "But which of so many uses him?"
"Does it matter?" Rojire asked. "You warned me not so long ago that it might become difficult to accommodate the Sultan for much longer. I think the time may have come to consider finding-"
"-another place to live?" Sanat Ji Mani finished for him. "What place would that be, do you think? Here, at least, we know what we face, but elsewhere?"
"You say that readily enough," said Rojire, "but you have often put yourself at risk in the name of familiarity. " He coughed. "I would not like to see you endure what you did outside of Baghdad again. "
Sanat Ji Mani made a gesture of dismissal. "This is different, and well you know it. "
"It is enough the same to make me worried," countered Rojire, then deliberately changed the subject. "I have gathered moldy bread for your sovereign remedy. "
"Excellent," said Sanat Ji Mani. "Is the anodyne paste finished yet?"
"Yes. I have put it into jars, as you ordered," said Rojire. "I have also refilled the bottles of tincture for coughs and wheezing. " He pointed to the shelves where these items stood, all neatly labeled in Latin. "The skin-paste with wool-fat and spider's-breath is in the alabaster jars at the end of the shelf. "
"You have been busy," Sanat Ji Mani approved. "Is there syrup of poppies, as well?"
"The first mixture is done, and the second will be done tomorrow," said Rojire.
"That is good to hear. I
will devote a few days to making other medicaments before I give orders to the armorers to make breastplates for archers, and instructions to the boyers and fletchers for the bows and arrows that Firuz Ihbal requires in the Sultan's name. " His tone was lightly ironic, but there was a sadness in his dark eyes that was more than annoyance at the avarice of the Sultan's deputy.
"You are worried," said Rojire, taking no satisfaction in being right.
"The Sultanate is weak. Many know it, and seek to hide that fact with displays of arms that mean nothing. " Sanat Ji Mani sat down on the tall, Roman stool that stood in front of his longest table. "These deputies are more concerned about jealousies among themselves than they are about any enemies that might rise against the Sultanate. They do not understand how fragile their hold has become. "
"And you think that they may be tested?" Rojire asked.
"I fear they may," he answered as gently as he could. "And they have no T'en Chih-Yu to hold their borders. " He took a long, unsteady breath.
"Timur-i Lenkh?" Rojire suggested.
"He would have to come a long way, if all the rumors about his location are true, which is unlikely, knowing how rumors become distorted and magnified. But the Jagatai are known for their swift movement of troops, so it is not impossible," said Sanat Ji Mani, casting his mind back to his own experience of the troops of Jenghiz Khan, whose uncanny speed had broken the superior Chinese army and made Jenghiz's grandson Kublai the Emperor of China. "It could happen here. "
"Yet you will not leave," said Rojire.
"No. Not now," said Sanat Ji Mani, a remoteness coming over him that Rojire knew could not be lifted by anything he might say.
"But you will not rule out the possibility?" Rojire persisted, not at all certain that he would receive an answer.
"I will not," said Sanat Ji Mani as a faint vertical line formed between his fine brows.
Rojire accepted this, unwilling to press for a greater response. He put his mind on preparing the lamps for Sanat Ji Mani's long night of work ahead of him. When he had finished pouring oil into all of them, he said, "It is time for the evening meal. "
"Yes," said Sanat Ji Mani remotely. "See that the staff-"
With a sense of relief, Rojire said, "I will. I have issued instructions to the cook already on their behalf. They will all be fed: lentils, lamb, onions, rice, tamarind paste, two kinds of bread, and cheese. " It was one of a dozen standard meals Sanat Ji Mani provided his household, but the recitation of this eminently pragmatic concern restored his equilibrium. "Fruit and honey for a finish. "
"Very good," said Sanat Ji Mani, the severity of his expression softening. "I did not mean to push you out, Rojire," he went on. "I am apprehensive and I have visited my unease on you. If you will pardon my brusqueness?"
"Certainly," said Rojire promptly. "I should not have pressed you. "
"Of course you should," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I have not behaved well toward you, for which I apologize. " His quick smile was rueful. "I cannot give you my Word that I will never do so again. "
Rojire chuckled. "Wise of you, my master. " He put down flint-and-steel. "There. I will see to supper and then visit you again. "
"Thank you," said Sanat Ji Mani. "And tomorrow we must go to the House of Service, to care for the injured there. "
"Will Avasa Dani come with you?" Rojire asked as he went to the door.
"No; I doubt it. Her husband's family would not like it, and that would bring her trouble. I have authority from her husband, and I can allow her freedom in my own home, but her uncles would not like me to extend the same liberties to her beyond these walls. Nor would her husband, if he ever learned of it. " He looked down at his hands. "They are uneasy enough about the way he has arranged matters in his absence; I do not want to give them any reason to challenge her situation. Her brothers-in-law could go before the magistrate and insist that she be sequestered in her house and receive only female visitors. "
Rojire nodded. "She would like to assist you," he said quietly. "She has told me several times she wishes to see how you treat the injured and ill with your medicaments. "
"I am aware of that; but it would be folly to put her so much at risk. She is not foolish; she knows this. " He went to the wall filled with pigeon-hole drawers and opened one of them. "Go on. I will set to work now. "
"Do you want anything from the library?" Rojire was almost out the door.
"Not tonight," Sanat Ji Mani replied with a gesture of obligation.
Rojire closed the door and descended the stairs to the ground floor, where he sounded the clapper to bring the household to their dining room. He then went to speak to the cook, and to carry the first of the large, steaming bowls in to the servants.
Hirsuma was the last to arrive; he took his place hurriedly, as if he hoped not to be seen. When the platter of flat-bread reached him, he tore off half a round and shoved the platter along, his eyes moving furtively as if he had been caught in a crime.
"What is the matter, Hirsuma?" Rojire asked. "Are you ill?"
"Ill?" Hirsuma echoed. "No. I am well. " He plucked a morsel of flat-bread with shaking fingers and bit into it eagerly.
"Then is anything else amiss?" Rojire pursued, aware that Hirsuma was not himself.
Hirsuma coughed and spat out the bread. "You cannot speak to me in that way. You are only a servant, and a foreigner. You are nothing in Delhi. "
"Our master is a foreigner," Rojire reminded him. "He is a good and generous man, is he not?"
"He is," Hirsuma allowed. "But he is a foreigner. You are a foreigner. I was born in Delhi, as my father and his father were. I do not have to bow to foreigners. "
"But you will take the money and the food provided by foreigners," Rojire pointed out. "As a native of this city, should you not uphold its honor and respect the man who employs you?"
"You cannot speak to me so," Hirsuma insisted. "I may do as I think best. You cannot tell me how I am to behave. "
"I saw you speaking to a scrawny fellow this afternoon," said Garuda, the under-steward. "You stayed with him for some time. "
"He was seeking alms. I said I would need permission to give him any," Hirsuma said, a bit too quickly.
"You spoke to him longer than that," Garuda said, and looked to Rojire. "He is not to be trusted if he will not tell you what transpired. "
Hirsuma shoved himself away from the table and got to his feet. "I do not have to listen to this. It is all falsehoods. "
Rojire held up his hand. "You are accused of nothing but talking with an alms-seeker. Where is the harm in that?"
Mollified, Hirsuma stood still, his hands bunched at his sides. "You do not know anything. None of you know anything. "
"Very true," Rojire agreed at once. "And for that reason, we ask. In our situation you would do the same. " He indicated the thick cushion on which Hirsuma had been sitting. "I am only looking out for the household; I would expect the same of all of you. "
Garuda swept his arm out, indicating all fourteen men seated around the table. "What our master-steward says is true. It is for the good of the household that we know these things. " He grinned encouragement. "What has caused you agitation?"
"It is nothing," said Hirsuma, a note of resentment in his voice now. "They are all being foolish. "
Before more challenges could be issued, Rojire said, "If Hirsuma says it is nothing, then we must accept that it is nothing. " He got to his feet. "Dine well, and retire content. "
The men at the table acknowledged this usual salutation with exclamations of good-will as Rojire departed; alone in the kitchen, Rojire began to cut up a raw chicken, all the while listening closely to the low murmur of conversation from the dining room, hoping to glean some more information than what little he had learned. He was familiar with the complaints of servant
s, but wondered if this was different: he was worried about Hirsuma, for it was obvious that the servant was trying to conceal something-but what? and why? The description of a scrawny fellow alerted him, reminding him of the man who had followed him and Sanat Ji Mani earlier that day. Of course, Rojire reminded himself, there was more than one scrawny fellow in Delhi, and that most alms-seekers were far from robust, but he could not rid himself of the conviction that this was the same man.
A burst of raised voices cut into Rojire's musing, and he set his partially eaten chicken aside to return to the dining room, where he found Hirsuma on his feet again, and Garuda and Bohdil, the head groom, facing him angrily. "What is the meaning of this?" Rojire inquired, taking a calming tone with the belligerent servants.
"He has been telling secrets to enemies of our household," said Garuda.
"I heard him," added Bohdil. "The rascal he spoke to tried to pry opinions from me, but I would not give them. " He put his hand to his chest. "I know what my duties are, unlike some others. "
"Very good of you," said Rojire. "But what of Hirsuma?" He looked toward the houseman. "Did you do this thing? Were you careless with the truth when you said you only spoke of alms with-"
"He lied," said Bohdil. "He told the man many things. "
Most of the servants listened in rapt attention: this was more excitement than they had had in many months, and they were determined to get full value from the confrontation.
"I did not!" Hirsuma insisted, his face darkening with indignation. "The man said he had heard that our master was greedy and lazy, taking advantage of the hard-working people of Delhi; I told him that it was far from the case. " He shook his head once, like a lion worrying prey. "I said that our master gives alms at the temples and mosques of the city, and that he goes to the House of Service every fortnight to treat the injured and ill as an act of charity. I said that many others born in Delhi would be the better for doing as our foreign master does. "
Bohdil nodded. "That is what I heard. "
Garuda pointed at Hirsuma. "You did well to defend our master, but you should not have told that man so much. You should not have lied when you were asked about what you have done. You have made it worse for yourself. " He glanced at Rojire. "How many strokes?"
Rojire held up his hand. "No. He is not to be beaten. "
"Then how long will you confine him?" Garuda demanded. "We will keep guard, so that he will not be fed. "
"Nor will he be confined and starved," said Rojire.
There was a shocked silence at the table; Garuda muttered something under his breath, and then said, "You must ask our master how many strokes. "
"I have no need to ask," Rojire said. "Sanat Ji Mani does not beat his servants, just as he does not keep slaves. He does not confine them to starve them, either. " He paused to let the men consider what he had said. "You believe that this man has done wrong to the household, and has slighted our master, and that may be true, but I tell you that he is not to be punished for what he has done, or not punished by beating or starving. It is not our master's way. "
"If he is not beaten or starved, why will he not betray our master again, or why would not others among us?" Garuda asked, his words sharp.
"Because if there are any more lapses, on Hirsuma's part or any other's, he will be turned out of the household and another servant hired in his place," said Rojire. "Our master will allow an error in judgment, but not a pattern of untrustworthiness. "
"How can he be so lax?" Garuda was stunned by what he had heard. "His household will soon be in disorder if he takes no pains to keep the servants from-" He swung his hands through the air as if the words were too offensive to utter aloud.
"You have heard what will happen, to Hirsuma and anyone else," Rojire said calmly. "If this has been an honest mistake, Hirsuma will not suffer for it. If he is duplicitous, he will be so again, and he will be turned out of this house forever. That is our master's way, and he will not change it. " He did not add that Sanat Ji Mani had been a slave and a servant many times in his long past and had reached a point where he no longer wanted to punish those who worked for him with anything other than dismissal.
Garuda mumbled something about the foolishness of foreigners, but stopped when he saw Rojire stare at him. "If it is his wish, it shall be done," he said, catching himself.
"Very good. " Rojire stood in the servants' dining room a little longer, letting the silence sink in, then said, "I will inform our master of what has happened here before I retire tonight. If he has anything to tell you, I will announce it in the morning. " With that, he withdrew and went back to his meal; he ate in a preoccupied manner, for he was distracted by worries as to what Hirsuma's business with the stranger might mean. When he was finished, he reluctantly prepared to climb to the top of the house again, this time to inform Sanat Ji Mani that it appeared their misgivings had been well-founded and that they were being spied upon.
Text of a letter from Atta Olivia Clemens to Sanat Ji Mani, written in the Latin of Imperial Rome and carried by caravan from Aleppo to Delhi by way of Tabriz, Herat, and Ghanzi. Delivered fourteen months after it was dispatched.
To my most enduring, most esteemed friend, Sanct' Germain Franciscus, in whatever fabled city he now finds himself, the most affectionate and eremitic greetings of Olivia, who is presently on the island of Rhodes, and heartily tired of it.
There has not been an outbreak of Black Plague for more than a decade now, and people are beginning to hope that the worst is over. There has been enough time that travel is returning to acceptable levels and trade is beginning to resume. I have seen an increase in merchants venturing out from Venetia and Genova in large numbers in the last year, and I trust this is an indication that the world is going to restore itself at last, although some are saying that God will bring about the Apocalypse at the dawning of the year 1400, when the Pale Horse shall come again, and none will survive his visit; it is a view some clergy are eager to embrace and encourage. I cannot share this pious dread, having seen more than enough of slaughter and pestilence to know that no matter how devastating it is, it is never so total that nothing and no one survives it. If the Crusades were not sufficient for that task, the Black Plague is not.
I plan return to Rome in a year or so if these favorable signs continue, and that butcher, Timur-i does not make another skirmish into the lands just over the water to the east of here. I thank all your forgotten gods that Timur-i is a horseman and not a sailor, or half these islands would be empty already. What stories they tell about him! I am often astonished to hear otherwise sensible men say that he cannot be killed because he is the get of a whore and a demon, or that he can summon the desert winds to drive his enemies from the field. I do believe he makes towers of dead bodies as a warning to others, but that he rides his horse to the top of the piles seems like a risk of a good horse to me, and therefore I am skeptical that he would do it. I would ask you, but I would prefer you have no experience of him and his cavalry.
Niklos has built a number of boats and offers them to fishermen for a share of their catch; this has made him well-esteemed here, and the usual doubts that might be held in regard to our isolated lives have been diminished through his good sense and good business. Of course, we can always use the largest of these boats to leave Rhodes if that becomes necessary, as I think one day it must. I do not like to rely on our neighbors to welcome us as passengers aboard their boats, and this spares us that eventuality. When we depart, Niklos will leave his other boats to the monastery near the old Crusaders' fort, and that will satisfy everyone. So you see, I am prepared to go when the time is right.
What of you, my old friend? Are you prepared to leave that distant city-and are you still in Delhi, or will this letter wander all over those distant lands following your elusive trail? I know you have said that Delhi is as safe a place as any in this world just now, and that m
ay be true, but I cannot help but wonder how long that safety will last. Timur-i is not the only man with dreams of conquest and ready followers, and many of them are waiting to strike in those places where the Plague left many vacancies in the ranks of the powerful. The Plague began in the East, and it killed many there as well as in the West. Do you have no concerns, or are you indifferent to your fate again? When you left Europe, you said you were tired of finding death everywhere, and of the suspicions that made travel prudent. Yet those of our blood must do so in times of such travail, or die the True Death. You taught me that, back when Traianus was Caesar, and I have striven to accept that verity, harsh though it often is; I ask you to remember your own lesson and maintain yourself prudently, as you would advise me to do, were our circumstances reversed.
Living here, in this isolated place, I have had to resort to visiting likely men in their sleeps instead of taking a lover, as I should prefer to do. But I fear that there are too many persons watching all foreigners here, and most of them are willing to see devils everywhere, and to rise against them to be rid of them. It is the result of the Plague, of course, and not limited to Rhodes alone. I find the circumspection this imposes upon me to be as vexing as it is necessary. I long for knowing and a touch that is for me, not the dream I provide. Still, it has been safer here, though I live like a nun, than it would have been in many other places, so, although I may dislike the accommodations I must make, I am nonetheless grateful for the opportunity such accommodations provide. It is one of the many ironies I have come to appreciate since I came to your life, all those centuries ago, when you pulled me from my tomb.
If you receive this, I would be grateful for an answer, no matter how long it may take to reach me; I can be patient when I must. I know the blood-bond between us is unbroken, and will be so until one or the other of us is wholly gone from this world, but a few words on a sheet of vellum are always welcome, for I cannot help but recall those times when your silence was the result of difficulties beyond the usual for our kind, and how nearly I came to losing you at those times. Delhi may not be Saxony, or Spain, or Tunis, or the Land of Snows, but the remoteness of the place troubles me; indeed, you may have already left that city for places still more remote, and where this will not find you for a number of years. I cannot help but be worried that you will go to a place I cannot discover you, as you have done before, and that I will have to wait decades to know what has become of you. Or worse: you may die the True Death far from me, and I will not be able to mourn you except through the breaking of the blood-bond. I am still Roman enough to want to make a monument for you, if I must lose you, as an outward sign of my inward grief. You may chide me for needless anxiety if you like, but I cannot be entirely sanguine with you so far away, and Timur-i on the rampage, and the Turks up in arms against him. If you tell me all is well, I will try not to fret too much.
When next I write to you-assuming I learn in the next few years where to find you-it will probably be from Rome. Greece is all very well as a place of escape, but I grow homesick for my native earth, and, as I have said, it will be soon that Niklos and I will depart, and not solely because I miss my homeland; we have been here long enough to engender questions I would prefer not to answer. Rome may be half a ruin, but it is my ruin, and I long to see the broken walls of the Flavian Circus again, and to walk the roads the Legions trod so long ago. And before I grow maudlin, I will send this on its long journey, telling you it brings my
Everlasting love,
Olivia
on Rhodes on the 17th day of March in the Christian year 1397
A Feast In Exile Page 5
