CHAPTER 9
1252-56 TREACHERY
Organising a major movement of men, animals, equipment and victuals takes a long time. Kubilai, at last entrusted to lead a campaign, wanted to make completely sure that everything would go well for the invading army. A superstitious man, he visited astrologers in Karakorum, who consulted their charts laboriously as Kubilai waited impatiently for their predictions. They foretold tragedy and ultimate triumph for the campaign, but would not be drawn further. Time, they said, would tell. In practical preparation, tithes of grain and rice extracted from subject nations helped to fill the storehouses to a degree adequate to sustain armies on the march. Ahmad, assisted by Shams Ad-Din, carefully worked out how much foodstuffs, armoury and beasts of burden would be necessary to carry provisions on a long campaign.
Ahmad and Shams were working together late one night near the armies' proposed departure date. Shams had been deferential and respectful to his superior and had shown no signs of duplicity. Despite what he knew of the man, Ahmad felt himself liking him. What he did at night was, after all, his own business. The torches were flickering and the smoke was nipping their eyes. Ahmad suddenly saw Shams looking at two books alternately.
"That's funny!" he said. "These grain figures don't tally. What's on this note and what you have down in the book are two ... different... things!" His voice trailed off as Ahmad stood menacingly over him.
"You haven't seen these figures, understand?" Ahmad emphasised his words with menace.
"But - there should be several hundredweights more grain for the armies!" Shams replied. "Where ..."
Ahmad suddenly grabbed Shams by the shirt and pulled him to his feet. Ahmad held his face right in front of Shams' face as he spoke, his face a mask of wrath. "If I were you, I wouldn't ask these questions." Ahmad said, "Nor would I bring the subject up ever again."
"Wh-what do you mean?" Shams asked, cowed by Ahmad's powerful wrath.
"I mean - I am aware of your perversion." He spat the last word out.
"My perversion? What do you mean?"
"Your predilection for boys and even your own son!"
"But Prince Kubilai will not be bothered about something like that. You can't threaten me with that!"
"Prince Kubilai may not be bothered, but I know for sure that, before Allah, should the Mullah learn of such practices, you will be condemned to perdition for all eternity."
Shams, a God-fearing man, crumbled under the terrible threat. "No! No! Not that! Allah forgive me! Don't tell the Mullah! Please, I beg of you!" Shams said, trembling with fear.
Ahmad, disgusted, pushed him away. "Well, then. We shall say no more about the matter. But in future, should you imagine you see any irregularities and a report is made to Prince Kubilai, I shall know from whence the information came, and I will condemn you to perdition. Is that clear?"
"Yes, quite clear, my Lord." Shams spoke the last two words with heavy irony.
---oo0oo---
Then, a few weeks before Kubilai's army's departure, Kubilai called Ahmad to him. After the necessary formalities, Kubilai addressed him. "Ahmad, you have done well. Soon now I will depart Karakorum, perhaps never to return. As I do not want my wives and family to be endangered, I have ordered them to stay here until I summon them. I am taking my eldest son, Dorji, with me, as well as my military tactical advisers. As decreed by the Great Khan, when I call for my wives to join me, you and your families will come with them. You may work for Jamui's household in the meantime, but there are two things I would like you to do for me."
"I am your servant, My Lord." Ahmad bowed, wondering what Kubilai's task would be.
"First, your advice. When I successfully conquer Yunnan, I will need a reliable Governor of the province. Whom do you recommend?"
Ahmad, seeing an opportunity of painlessly disposing of someone who already knew too much, made his recommendation. "My Saracen colleague, Shams Ad-Din, would be an excellent choice, my Lord. He has already had experience of governing territory in Transoxania and, from what I have seen of him, he is honest and discreet."
"Excellent recommendation. I will take him with me. Now, to the other thing. I want you to look after my interests in my absence, to be my eyes and ears for any deceits or treachery that my brother, or any others, may engineer. These sacks of money ..." he indicated a pile of six sacks lying beside his chair "are yours. Use the money wisely to protect my House. That Saracen soldier friend of yours .."
"Aftab, My Lord."
"Yes, Aftab. Employ him, and any other loyal and trustworthy men, in any way you think necessary. Do you understand my meaning, Ahmad?"
"I do, My Lord. I hear, and obey." He kow-towed, and Kubilai placed his foot on Ahmad's shoulder as he lay in suppliance.
---oo0oo---
And so, in early 1252, two armies marched out of Karakorum with horns blaring and cymbals clashing; one, led by Hulaku, on what was to be a long campaign, going to Persia to rid the world of Assassins, the other, led by Kubilai, going to China to conquer Yunnan and, ultimately, to subjugate the whole of China.
Ahmad watched from the parapets as the large royal yurts left the city, carried, intact, on wide platforms drawn by two rows of a dozen oxen, the other, smaller yurts, which were erected and dismantled every day, being transported on camels. Heavy siege equipment was carried by elephants.
---oo0oo---
As the army progressed across the swamps during the heat of the summer, it was inevitable that swamp fever and other insect-borne diseases would affect the army. No family escaped the scourge, not even the children of Kubilai and Empress Jamui.
Prince Dorji, firstborn son and heir of Kubilai, was proudly riding along beside his father. Dorji, a squat, sturdy, ruddy faced boy, looked older than his eleven years. He had pestered his father to go along on the campaign. Jamui, however, was totally against such a young boy going on such a dangerous expedition, albeit with the protection of an army of 40,000 Mongol warriors. "Kubilai, he's only eleven years old, he's still just a baby. Please, don't take him along, let him enjoy his childhood for just a little bit longer!"
"He is my heir and should see at first hand the lands that will one day be his. This will be his best opportunity to do so, and I will ensure his safety at all times. No ill will come to him, my wife!" replied Kubilai gruffly. Jamui knew that, when her husband's mind was made up, nothing she could say would sway him. It was bad enough for her to say goodbye to her husband for she knew not how long, but it was ten times worse watching her eldest son riding away by his father's side.
---oo0oo---
It was hot, the mosquitoes were biting and other flies were sticking to their perspiring bodies. Dorji was not a talkative boy, but was fiercely proud of his privileged position as first son of Kubilai. If he felt unwell, he did not show it, or tell anyone of it, that hot, summer's day. His heavy perspiration was considered to be natural, and he drank as much water as he could. If, however, his father had been observant, he would have realised that the boy was unwell. Quite suddenly, as he rode beside his father, he slumped onto his pony's neck and fell unconscious to the ground.
Kubilai immediately drew the army to a halt, jumped off his pony and went to the aid of his son. "Shaman! Shaman! Bring forth the shaman!" he called urgently when he saw his son's pale, unconscious face, a sudden pang of fear stabbing through him. The boy lay limply in his father's arms as a shaman was found and brought to the head of the lines.
They made camp for the night and the shaman gave the boy a posset of herbs and spices to drink. His skin was dry and hot, the fever burning now inside him. For two days the massive army waited as the boy's health deteriorated. Then, during the heat of the third day, his overtaxed heart could no longer bear the strain and Dorji, who would have been a future Khan, died in his father's arms.
Too young to have chosen a burial place, too far away to return to Karakorum, his grieving father had no alternative but to carry his body in state to high ground and bury it beneath a young and healthy tree.
The news of Dorji's sudden death was dispatched by Yam rider back to Karakorum. Ahmad, whose own already large family had recently been sadly depleted by the loss from illness of a baby girl and a toddler boy, had his own grieving family to console. However, when he had an opportunity during the course of his duties to speak Jamui, he offered her his sincere condolences.
Ahmad made the customary obeisance and sat on a cushion at her feet. Jamui dismissed her ladies in waiting so that they were quite alone. "My Lady, I grieve with you. He was a fine boy ..."
To Ahmad's dismay, Jamui stood and, suddenly bursting into tears, turned her back on him. "Oh, Ahmad, he was only a little boy! He had his whole life to live! Why take him? Why not me instead?"
Ahmad stood behind her, his compassion deeply stirred. He almost put his hand on her shoulder, but he restrained himself, though his arms ached to hold her close in a comforting embrace. Instead, he stood helplessly, annoyed at himself for bringing her grief so sharply to the surface. "My Lady, what can I say? There are no words ..." He opened his arms in a gesture of helplessness. To his utter amazement, Jamui turned around, stepped forward and, hugging him round the waist, she put her head on his chest and wept. "M-my Lady, what are you doing? If anyone should see us, your husband will have me killed!" He dropped his arms to his sides as she buried her face into his burnous, sobbing violently, but, after a few moments, compassion and instinct took over and he held her tightly to him, acutely aware that this was the nearest he would ever be to her, his body making a plain statement that he made sure she could feel. She did not draw away.
"No! My Lady, I must go!" Half crazy with desire for her, he pushed her away, salaamed and left hurriedly. He stood outside her apartments for a moment, gasping as he fought to control the flames burning inside him.
However, his hurried departure from Jamui's rooms did not go unobserved. A Chinese servant, hidden in the darkest shadows of a recess, watched as Ahmad swept by.
Returning to his own apartments, he sought out comfort from Fatima, who was amazed and delighted at the exuberance of his lovemaking.
---oo0oo---
The next morning Jamui summoned Ahmad. Once again dismissing her attendants, she bade him sit, as she did. "Ahmad, I owe you an apology for yesterday. It was - cruel - of me to excite you like that. Your restraint was admirable."
"Cruel, Lady? Oh, no. You have given me a memory that time will never fade." Despite her pale, drawn face, Ahmad could see the flicker of amusement in her eyes. His words had pleased her.
"Now, there is another matter that I would like to discuss with you, Ahmad." Jamui continued. "Chinkin."
"Oh, Chinkin." Ahmad said flatly. The ten year old boy was not a well child. Only his immediate family and shaman knew that he was afflicted with the falling sickness. However, as Ahmad was privy to the family's affairs, he, too, knew of the child's disease. For some reason, Chinkin had taken a childish dislike to Ahmad and ran away whenever Ahmad was near.
"Chinkin is now our eldest son and heir. His - malaise - is not improving. Neither our shamans nor the Chinese doctors can do anything to help him. His affliction is incurable"
"Whatever Allah decrees shall be, shall be, my Lady."
"But we do not want people to know he is sickly - especially now that he is my husband's heir and successor. How can I keep it secret?"
"My Lady, it is almost impossible to do so, except that you keep him closeted for the rest of his life."
"We cannot do that, Ahmad."
"Well, then, there is another, somewhat violent, alternative."
"Violent, Ahmad?"
Ahmad took a deep breath. He had heard stories of other unfortunates' infirmities being shielded in the manner he was about to suggest and, knowing the Mongols to be people who held human life cheap, he hesitated only a moment in making the suggestion. "Kill everyone who does not belong to the family household that chances to see him during one of his fits. That way, the news can never be spread of his disease." There, he'd said it. He waited for her reaction.
"Oh! That's a bit drastic, Ahmad."
"Maybe so, my Lady, but it has been done before, in other countries. It is not an uncommon disease unfortunately. Many great leaders have been so afflicted, including Julius Caesar and Alexander the Great. In between occurrences, he can live almost normally, is that not so?"
"Well, yes. It happens every six months or so."
"Well then ..." concluded Ahmad, spreading his hands eloquently.
"I will put your suggestion to my husband, when next I write to him, Ahmad. And now, it is time to go. Thank you for your counsel."
"I am at my Lady's service." he salaamed deeply.
"I know, Ahmad." Was that a twinkle in her eye? he wondered as he took his leave of her. She had been more beautiful and desirable to him yesterday than ever before, and he knew that that cherished moment would never come again.
---oo0oo---
That evening, as Ahmad relaxed in his apartments, servants attending his every whim, one of his Chinese servants scraped the door respectfully. "Enter!"
"My Rord, some-run to see you - he say, most urgent."
"At this time of night? Who is it?"
"Chung, Massa of the Serwants in Rady Jamui's parace, my Rord."
Ahmad knew Chung well - he had already been Jamui's chief servant when Ahmad had arrived in Karakorum. "Bring him in, Tang." he ordered the Chinaman, curious to know what Chung wanted.
Jamui's Master of Servants had, in fact, been with her household since she came to Karakorum to marry Kubilai. A well-dressed, middle-aged Chinese in a coolie hat entered Ahmad's room and Ahmad stood to greet him. "Well, Chung, what can I do for you?"
"It is more what you can do for me, Mastah Ahmad." Chung replied, hands in sleeves.
"What do you mean by that?" Ahmad felt anger rising in him at the man's impertinence.
"The other night, you visit Lady Jamui. I see what happen."
"What do you mean, you saw what happened? Nothing happened, Chung. Nothing at all."
"It did, Mastah Ahmad. I see you hold Lady tight, and she not push you away. Oh, no, Mastah. When you come out, I see what yo' body say!"
"Why you impertinent Chinese dog!" Ahmad's anger exploded, and he struck the man to the floor with a single blow to the face. He stood over Chung, waiting to deliver another punch, when Chung spoke.
"Not advisabre to hit Chung, Massah Ahmad. Each time, cost you more!"
Ahmad stood back. "What do you want of me, Chung?" Ahmad realised he was about to be blackmailed, and did not like the experience.
"I not tell if you give me money - shall we say, extra pay?"
"How much, you cur?" Ahmad's eyes flashed fiery anger.
"Oh, say ten ting every month? Not much, yes?"
"I have five ting just now. Here -" he threw the silver coins onto the floor. "Come back tomorrow and I will give you the rest! Now, get out of my sight!"
Chung scurried away, bowing profusely.
Ahmad thought for a few moments. He could never be sure that Chung would not inform on him, despite the fact that nothing had happened that night. People always believed the worst, and Mongol justice was swift and ruthless. Giving Chung enough time to leave the area, he summoned Tang. "Tang, go to Aftab, tell him I want him urgently." Tang shuffled off. A short while later, Aftab stood before Ahmad.
"Aftab I have - a job for you."
"Your wish is my command, My Lord Ahmad."
"My integrity, and that of My Lady Jamui, has been threatened, Aftab. I cannot permit that." Ahmad's eyes were dark. "My accuser is Chung Loon-Sung, Master of Servants in Khatun Jamui's household. He - saw - and misinterpreted - something. I do not want him to pass on what he saw to anybody." Ahmad pulled a purse heavy with coins from his belt. He placed it on the table and pushed it towards Aftab. "This is for you when you silence him. Understand?"
Aftab hesitated for a moment but, with a wife and family to feed, he decided to comply with Ahmad's request. "Yes, my Lord."
"And, Aftab - make it look like an accident!"
The following morning a body was seen floating down the River Orkhon. When fishermen recovered it, it was identified as Chung Loon-Sung. As there were no apparent wounds on the body, it was concluded that he had had too much to drink, had lost his balance, slipped and fallen into the river. Jamui was most upset at the loss of her trusted servant, but this time Ahmad did not call around to comfort her.
---oo0oo---
A few weeks later, Jamui summoned Ahmad. Chinkin, who was reclining on a special, ornate, portable chair, sat beside her. No-one else was present. After Ahmad prostrated himself, Jamui waved Ahmad to sit on cushions nearby and indicated sweetmeats for him to partake. Not someone to beat about the bush, Jamui spoke directly. "My husband has approved of your suggestion regarding the protection of Chinkin's illness from outside eyes. If anyone sees him with the falling sickness, they are to be executed on the spot! You hear that, Chinkin?"
"Yes, mother, thank you, mother." the boy responded automatically.
"And, Ahmad, there are to be no exceptions, do you hear?"
"I hear and understand, my Lady."
---oo0oo---
It was, regrettably, not long before Ahmad was to discover how easily his recommendations could misfire.
Every year Ahmad celebrated Muslim feast days by treating his family to a cookout. The River Orkhon glinted in the hot sunshine. There were many flowers and herbs growing wild along its banks. Ahmad's children laughed, swam and played in the gentle waters.
Chinkin had been withdrawn for some time, and Jamui knew that her son was approaching one of his bad times. He usually stayed indoors during the heat of the day but, on this occasion, he escaped the confines of the palace and wandered alone along the riverbank. Quite suddenly, the fit came on him. He was alone, in riverside foliage, as he thrashed helplessly about. There was always a danger of him swallowing his tongue while in the throes of the epileptic fit.
A Mongol girl, twelve years old, dark and pretty, wandered along the riverbank, picking flowers, when she came across the straitened Chinkin. She gasped in surprise but knew another unfortunate child who also suffered epilepsy. She found a twig and, forcing Chinkin's foaming mouth open, made him clamp hard down on it, then ran for help.
She found her father nearby, grabbed his hand and pulled him along. "Papa, papa, come quick! A boy needs help!"
By the time she and her father returned to the scene, Chinkin was recovering. Ahmad looked in dismay at Chinkin, then at his daughter, who was still holding his hand. Chinkin said nothing but, his eyes burning meaningfully into Ahmad's, he got to his feet and walked shakily away.
Ahmad, distraught, threw his head back and bellowed his anguish to the sky.
---oo0oo---
"Papa! Papa! What's wrong? You're frightening me, Papa!"
Ahmad, tears in his eyes, knelt in front of his daughter.
"Cemile, tell me, what did you see?"
"He has the falling sickness, Papa. I put a twig in his mouth and ran for you!"
"Then no-one else saw? Only you?"
"Yes, Papa, as far as I know!"
Ahmad heard the Mongol guards crashing towards them through the undergrowth. Like a caged animal he looked around desperately for a way of escape, but knew in the same instant there was none. Oh, Allah, no! Not my daughter as well! He thought as he turned towards the warriors, holding his innocent daughter protectively to him.
The Mongol guards surrounded them. "Come! Both of you!" the Captain of the guard commanded, his sword unsheathed threateningly. They marched back towards the encampment, surrounded by sword-carrying Mongols. There was no escape. People turned to stare, gasping in surprise as they recognised Ahmad and his young daughter in the midst of the Mongols. Beka rushed up, but was repelled by the guards. They marched back to the palace and straight to Jamui's apartments. Chinkin sat beside his mother, his eyes burning as he beheld Ahmad and his daughter. The Captain of the Guard stood nearby, his sword unsheathed. The rest of the detachment guarded the entrance.
Ahmad, seeing no other way, fell to the floor and begged. "Mercy, my Lady! Mercy for my daughter! She is only a child! Please, for the love of Allah, do not kill my daughter!"
Cemile only now realised her predicament. "Kill me? Why, Papa?" Clinging to her father, she started to cry. "Save me, Papa, save me! I don't want to die!"
"This is Cemile, Ahmad?" asked Jamui. "I haven't seen her since she was a baby. She is beautiful, like her mother, but you of all people know the decree, Ahmad. Anyone seeing my son with the falling sickness must die!"
Chinkin's eyes were glittering, his face a mask of hatred. "Kill her now, my mother!" he demanded. Pulling her away from the protective embrace of her father, the guard seized Cemile's arms and pinned them behind her back.
"Guard!" Jamui indicated. Slowly, reluctantly, the Captain drew his sword.
"No! My Lady, please, no! Spare her! She is the daughter of my heart and I love her!" Ahmad pleaded desperately, tears rolling down his face in his distress as he saw the guard take his sword and raise it to strike his daughter dead.
"Stop!" her voice was soft but commanding. "I have never heard you say that before!" commented Jamui as the guard gratefully sheathed his sword. Ahmad raised his head and turned his tearstained face appealingly towards Jamui. She had never seen him weeping before. Suddenly her proud Saracen was reduced to helplessness and her heart went out to him. She raised her hand to quieten him as he made to speak. "I think I must make an exception in this case."
"No, Mother! The girl saw me - she must die!" shouted Chinkin, jumping out of his chair.
"Silence, Chinkin!" she commanded, and Chinkin, sulking, threw himself back on the seat, legs crossed, arms folded, eyes glowering. "Guard, release the girl!" Cemile fell to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Ahmad held her to him, hugging her, kissing her black hair, trying to console her. Jamui stood above both of them for a moment, then knelt as well.
"Did you really think I'd do it, Ahmad? Kill your beloved daughter, the child of my tribe?"
"There were to be no exceptions, My Lady."
Jamui turned to Cemile. "Well, Cemile. It is unfortunate that you saw my son while he was unwell."
"I-I helped him, Lady!" Cemile sobbed.
"You helped him? Chinkin, is this true?"
Chinkin sat sulkily in his chair, saying nothing.
"What did you do to help him, Cemile?"
"I - put a twig in his mouth, Lady, to stop him biting his tongue!"
"Did she, Chinkin? Answer me!"
"Yes, mother." he said, reluctantly.
"Cemile, have you seen Chinkin with the falling sickness before now?"
"No, Lady, but one of my playmates has it, too."
"I see." Jamui thought for a few moments, then turned to Ahmad.
"You have been a faithful servant to me for some time, Ahmad. I am also aware that you have suffered much grief at the hands of my people. However, by your own suggestion and my husband's decree, anyone who sees Chinkin with the falling sickness must die in order to avoid his illness being publicly known and ridiculed. Cemile, you understand your predicament, do you not?"
"Yes, Lady." Cemile, head bowed, replied.
"If the people should know of Chinkin's disability, the succession will not fall to Kubilai. Therefore, what you know must be kept a secret, for ever, and I can think of only one way to do that, apart, of course, from cutting out your tongue!"
"My Lady!" interjected Ahmad, aghast that Jamui should ever have thought of that exigency. Behind Cemile's back Jamui winked at Ahmad. He caught the implication of that wink and nodded silently as Jamui continued: "No, that would be a pity. But you know, Cemile, that, if you are a bad girl and tell anyone in the world about what you saw today, both you, and the people you tell, will all be killed immediately." Cemile was shaking with fear. "Both Kubilai and Chinkin are less compassionate than I, but I think I have a solution to the problem. Chinkin, are you listening?"
"Yes, mother." Chinkin replied, morosely.
"You showed great resourcefulness in putting a clamp in Chinkin's mouth when he was - indisposed. I admire that. You have, you say, seen another child with the same affliction. That is good. I am prepared to allow you to be Chinkin's chief attendant. When he is ill, you will nurse him. When he is well, you will serve him in whatever way he wishes but -" Jamui paused for a moment. "The price you will have to pay for this honour is that you must never return to your home again. You will come and live with us in the Palace for ever and ever, and the only people you will ever speak to will be other servants of Chinkin and, of course, your father." Jamui looked up at Ahmad, whose relief at the proposed outcome was obvious.
"Can't I even go home for my clothes and to say goodbye to everyone?" Cemile asked tearfully.
"No, your father will bring your things here. Now, don't cry, child. Chinkin will be good to you - won't you Chinkin?" Her tone of voice made it clear to the boy that, if he was not, he would have his parents to answer to.
"My Lady, I thank you for your clemency towards my daughter. She is a good girl and will serve Chinkin loyally." Ahmad bowed deeply, regaining his composure as he brushed the tears from his gaunt face.
"I meant what I said, Ahmad - no matter who she is, one mistake and she dies! There will be no further exceptions - ever! Now, go and get her things. From this moment on, she stays here with us!"
As Ahmad walked away, he realised that having a daughter within Chinkin's court could, in future, be most useful.
It was not easy for Ahmad telling Beka that her daughter was lost to her for ever, especially as he could not tell her why. There was much weeping and wailing. Beka asked if she could speak to Jamui, but Ahmad forbade even that privilege. One slip and both his wife and daughter would die.
---oo0oo---
Ahmad heard a clattering of hooves in the courtyard outside and a hubbub of voices outside his door, then his major-domo bustled in, bowing profusely. "Massah Ahmad, two velly impohtant peepre to see you!"
"Who is it, Tang?"
"They say they Alandar and Liu T'ai-P'ing!"
Oh, oh, here it comes! thought Ahmad. He collected his thoughts, composed himself as he sat behind his desk, then said "Show them in, Tang."
Alandar, a rotund, middle-aged Arab from Baghdad, and Liu T'ai-P'ing, a mixture of Mongol and Chinese, small and lean, a few years his junior, swept into Ahmad's chambers. Both were richly attired in the most expensive silks and brocade robes of office. After hospitality was hurriedly prepared and offered by Ahmad's staff, his unexpected visitors, comfortably sitting cross-legged on plush cushions, got down to business.
Liu was the first to speak. "You ah Prince Kub'rai's chief financial advisah, no?"
"I will take up that post some time in the future, my Lord Liu. In the meantime, I serve the Lady Jamui in a similar capacity." Ahmad responded.
"The Great Khan has asked us to meet with all the Princes' financiers in order to familiarise ourselves with your monetary accounting." continued Alandar, pompously, hands clasped across his stomach.
"You are most welcome to peruse my books at any time, my Lords."
"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary just now, Fanakati." replied Alandar. "However - it has been brought to our attention that certain of the funds that Mongke has appropriated to Kubilai are being, shall we say, misdirected?"
"By whom?" Ahmad felt anger and apprehension stirring within him.
"You have a large family, and many concubines. How, may I ask, can you afford their upkeep?" asked Alandar, leaning forward accusingly.
"My Lord Kubilai's salary is most generous and permits me to - indulge - in my pleasures."
"Ah, yes, your pleasures. Does Prince Kubilai permit you to indulge in the Lady Jamui as well?"
Ahmad, standing abruptly, exploded in anger. "How dare you impugn the good name of My Lady Jamui!"
"Oh, we're not impugning the Lady's good name - merely your reaction to a certain incident recently." Alandar sat with a self-satisfied air, sure that he had netted his prey.
"Incident?" asked Ahmad, subduing his wrath.
"Yes. A great pity, the sudden death of Chung Loon-Sung. Especially after he saw you and the Lady Jamui somewhat closer to each other than Mongol propriety would permit."
Ahmad froze in horror. They knew! How?
"Chung came to see Liu the night before he died. Right, Liu?"
"Ah, so. Most excited. He tell me what he see."
"He saw nothing! She was upset at the death of her son and needed comforting! That was all!"
"Do you think Prince Kubilai will believe that?" replied Alandar curtly.
Ahmad hesitated. No, he would not. "What do you want of me?"
"Our silence will have a price, of course."
"I think not, my Lords. I think that perhaps the price of your silence will be the price of my silence."
"What do you mean?" Alandar asked, nonplussed.
"Certain matters have been brought to my attention, My Lords. Matters which would not be well received with the Great Khan Mongke. As you are well aware, a recent Chinese uprising was quashed by Mongke's army. This printed leaflet has come to my attention. It calls on the Chinese populace to take up their arms and usurp the Mongol invaders. Everything printed by the Imperial Presses is embossed by Departmental Seal. Now, I wonder whose seal is on this? Let me see ... Ah!" Ahmad pointed to the tiny mark. "Most careless, Lord Liu, it would appear that this is your official seal!" One trumped-up charge, thought Ahmad, begets another one.
Liu took the thin tree bark in his hand in dismay. It was a forgery, but a very good one. The chances were, if presented with the 'evidence', the Great Khan would believe his eyes. Liu threw the document away in disgust.
"There are plenty more where that came from My Lords!" Ahmad's mocking tone lay heavily in the air.
Liu and Alandar looked at each other in unspoken communion. "Pah!" exclaimed Alandar, heaving his bulk to his feet. "Come, Liu. He is more intelligent that we gave him credit for! We will go and speak no more of this matter - for now. But, rest assured Fanakati, you have not seen the last of us!" They stamped out of the audience chamber, pushing servants aside and riding off in a clatter of hooves, as they had come, with the sound of Ahmad's mocking laughter echoing in their ears.
---oo0oo---
The peoples of the invaded regions of China, being well aware of the Mongol reputation for butchering any conquered armies, fled from the oncoming horde without a fight and, although progress was perforce slow, Kubilai's army, after conquering Yunnan in 1254, appointed Shams Ad-Din, who was travelling with the Mongol army, as Governor of the province. They then made their way inexorably towards the China Sea. When the reached the Kingdom of Ta-li, which is bounded by three great rivers of China, the Salween, the Mekong and the Yangtze, Kubilai halted and sent three emissaries to the King of Ta-li to offer peace by submission. However, the King was merely a puppet of his leading Minister, Kao T'ai-hsiang, who summarily executed the emissaries and sent their heads back to Kubilai.
Kubilai, enraged at the barbaric treatment of his peaceful mission, split up his whole army into three separate sections. One, led by Uriyangkhadai, son of Subotei, one of Chingiz's grandsons, and a proven tactician in previous battles, led his army from the West, while Kubilai engaged the foe directly and another phalanx of princes and their forces attacked from the East. Kao, surrounded, massed his forces on the banks of the river Chin-sha, knowing that Mongols disliked river crossings. However, Kubilai's General Bayan ordered rafts of sheepskin bags to be made, inflated and floated, with as many soldiers as possible on them, across the river during the dead of night. The surprise attack defeated Kao's army and the King surrendered. Kao was beheaded along with those responsible for executing Kubilai's emissaries.
The taking of the Kingdom of Ta-li at last opened a direct overland trade route between the China Sea and the West. Anxious now to maintain peace in China, Kubilai established the twin capitals of Chung-Tu, his central capital later to be called Khanbalic, then Peking, and K-ai-P'ing, later called Shang-Tu or Xanadu, his idyllic summer palace, where he retired to hunt and relax during the hot summer months. Shang-Tu was located about a ten-day journey north of Chung-Tu.
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The time came, in 1256, for Kubilai's household to join him in his new capital, which was still little more than a very large Mongol encampment. Kubilai was now absolute Lord of Cathay, governing the entire area of northern China. As well as escorting his own wives and children, it was Ahmad's responsibility to transport all of Kubilai's written records which had amassed over the years. This was no minor undertaking, since the books were bulky and heavy and had to be kept dry throughout the journey. Travelling in the same caravan were all of Kubilai's four wives, children and court attendants. The train comprised of 600 beasts of burden and as many people. Chinkin travelled in a spacious covered wagon pulled by oxen, completely concealed from the eyes of the outside world by a curtain of lace and kept apart from the rest of the journeyers by an armed guard encircling the wagon at all times. He complained continually, either with the heat or from the constant movement, which was upsetting his delicate constitution. Cemile was isolated with him and his other intimate attendants, and Ahmad only had brief glimpses of his favourite daughter.
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Their arrival in Shang-Tu was the newly-built town's hitherto greatest event. Kubilai, joyous to see his wives again, and especially his best-loved Jamui, ordered a firework display, jugglers, acrobats, flags and banners flying from the new palace's turrets, and general celebrations by the Chinese people in an artifical show of welcome for their new overlords.
The yurt-shaped summer palace at Shang-Tu was surrounded by a pleasure park which Kubilai had especially stocked with wild boar and deer for the hunt he loved so well. Also, gerfalcons and hawks were flown by expert handlers in aerial displays of bird hunting. Kubilai took his favourite wife out on these hunting expeditions, erecting luxurious pavilions where their retinue of hunters and servants stopped to eat.
As he established himself as Finance Minister to Kubilai, Ahmad took his two eldest sons, Mas'ud and Husain, into his confidence. In the privacy of his own apartments, he addressed his sons. Mas'ud, tall and lean like his father, dressed in the Arabic fashion in blue silk shirt, red pantaloons and turban, was already proudly growing his first beard of manhood, but Husain preferred to dress and shave in the Mongol fashion. "My sons, I have raised and educated you as best I can, under the circumstances. You both can speak Arabic, Mongol and a smattering of Chinese. That is excellent. You will need these skills in your future life. It is now time for you both to go out into the world and earn your livelihood, as I had to do. Soon you will have wives of your own to support, and to do that you must make money as quickly as possible."
"But, father, you are rich. Why can't you finance us?" asked Husain.
"Because it is not manly to live off your father. I am prepared, however, to offer you jobs under my administration - simple jobs like taking the local census and collecting taxes. I will pay you well if you fulfil the tasks I set you, and your teaching Mullahs tell me you are both intelligent young men. So, are you prepared to work for me?" They both nodded their agreement to his proposition. He had employed the best Muslim teachers and tutors for the education of all his children, as he could envisage great future advantage in using them and placing them to his own gain and advancement.
Kubilai and his army travelled widely around his appanages of Hsing-Chou, Ching-Chao in Xian Province and Huai-Meng in Honan Province, establishing a Taxation Bureau and a Pacification Bureau in each provincial centre. In every Taxation Bureau Ahmad placed a previously tried and trusted taxation officer, usually a Muslim whom he had trained in the art of barter or money taxation. All his underlings were paid, through him, by Kubilai himself, and Ahmad ensured that an unrecorded percentage came to his coffers.
He himself made numerous excursions into the neighbouring countryside. On these journeys Ahmad saw for himself how the main industry of China, silk production, was carried out. Every silk producing village was surrounded by Mulberry trees. In the villages he saw the Mulberry silkworms feeding on the leaves in specially erected sheds and the village women working at the spinners unraveling the delicate cocoons of golden silk thread. Laid out in bales outside the houses, Ahmad marvelled at the beautiful golden lustre of the raw thread, and as he watched he saw the silk being dyed and made into bales of material on the looms. The whole region was rich in commercially desirable products, including the making, dyeing and manufacture of silk clothing, jade carving, china and pottery crafting, and agriculture.
The bark of the Mulberry trees had for many years been stripped, cured in the sun and used as a form of paper. Ahmad, in his travels, watched this process with interest. The educated members of the Chinese community used the thin bark paper to write lists of produce and to draw artwork with various colours of dyes. It was whilst travelling with Kubilai on one of his progresses through the provinces that the members of the entourage who were carrying the jingling moneybags on their packhorses started complaining about the ever-increasing weight of the coin. One night, after having taken his pleasure with a concubine, Ahmad was lying awake in his pavilion when an inspiration came to him. Why not use the bark of the Mulberry tree as money? It could be written on, stating the amount of money it was equivalent to, it could receive the Royal Stamp of validity and, because the strips of bark were virtually weightless, large amounts of money could be transported across the length and breadth of China with ease. The large amounts could be exchanged anywhere for smaller amounts of coin. The benefit to trade would be immeasurable, Ahmad realised.
For a while, Kubilai could not equate the idea of the bark of the Mulberry tree with money, but Ahmad persisted and slowly Kubilai came to accept the idea and authorised Ahmad to return to Shang-Tu to start the world's first paper money treasury. Every strip of bark had to be hand-written and endorsed with the Khan's seal and, as Ahmad was the seal-holder in his capacity of Minister of Finance, he had to remain in Shang-Tu to start the scheme and introduce it to Shang-Tu society, who enjoyed the novelty. Smaller and smaller notes were issued and the old coins were returned to Kubilai's treasury.
Jamui was amused and intrigued by the innovation, and spoke to Ahmad in the gigantic circular covered Pleasure Dome one day after his day's work was ended. "This wooden currency of yours is a wonderful idea, Ahmad. Which tree did you say it came from?"
"The Mulberry tree, My Lady."
"Ah, yes. The Mulberry tree. How well I remember that day in Bukhara ... Look, there are Mulberry trees outside!" Girlishly, she jumped up and ran outside, calling over her shoulder: "Come, Ahmad, sit with me again beneath this Mulberry tree." He followed her into the warm sunlight. "Look, the fruits are still ripe!" she said, shaking the tree till a shower of the white fruit fell like summer rain on them. Laughing happily, she sat amongst the fruits, scooped up a handful and popped them into her mouth, enjoying the tasty sensation. Ahmad looked down at her happy face and felt the old feeling stirring again. They sat together for a while, in companionable silence, tasting the fruits of the Mulberry tree.
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