“Let me guess… Julius Caesar, back from the dead,” answered Aulus, with a chuckle.
“Close! Our good friend Ibrahim and a few of his minions.”
“That fellator! Well, he said he was coming. What minions? And what the fuck is he doing here?”
Gaius laughed, amused at the string of profanity that was more intense than any he had ever heard from his normally staid senatorial cousin. “One question at a time. He is here with Yakov, his inseparable doer of dirty deeds, and Galosga and Shmuel, I think more to hitch a ride than to make sure he stayed out of trouble. He is traveling with another Arab he met in Tianjin who has business here. As to what he is doing here, he told us back in Tianjin that he wants to start his new life as a shepherd, ending as he began.” Gaius chuckled a bit more at his cousin’s angry demeanor and perplexity.
“That bloody pirate! I should have crucified him to the main mast!”
“He had quite a following among the crew, and I think you’d have had to crucify at least half. Relax, we knew about the shepherding, though I don’t quite believe it myself. He said this was where the land opens up enough to support grazing.”
“I am still not happy over the ‘ransom’ you paid out of my funds.”
“We negotiated that deal when I didn’t even know if you were still alive. He kept his end, got us on our way here, and I kept mine. And it only lightened your chest by a few pounds,” Gaius said, eyeing the massive locked chest containing gold and silver for Emperor He.
“Well, you trust him far more that I do, and I respect your judgment. But I want you to understand something. He is not to know anything about what goes on in here, who we meet, what we say. Absolutely nothing. Do not compromise this mission in any way, Gaius Lucullus!”
Antonius and Marcus had watched the stormy session in silence. Antonius decided it was time to intervene to calm tempers. “I’ll see to that, sir,” he affirmed in his best centurion’s gravelly growl.
“Please do so.” He exhaled slowly, and everyone stood around in awkward silence. Aulus continued: “Well, that is out of the way. Now you guess who I met today!”
“I have no idea,” answered Gaius curtly, still smarting from the rather public tongue lashing he had just received.
“Well, among many others, I met the Parthian ambassador. Fellow by the name of Cyrus Mithridates, and a less trustworthy soul you’re not likely to meet. At least he speaks excellent Greek. Ming left us alone, and we spent an hour chatting. I managed to find out a few things he let slip.”
“What were those, sir?” asked Marcus, trying to help dispel the still uncomfortable air.
“Well, not only did he not seem to know we were coming until just before we arrived, he apparently didn’t know about Gan Ying’s mission to Rome with you, Marcus. Apparently this court can keep a secret when it wants to. And Mithridates has been here ten years and speaks the language quite fluently.”
“I know him,” interjected Marcus. “He does speak Hanaean very well.”
“Well, it’s good you know him. Well, or just casually?”
“Casually. He is well above my status in the court.”
“Surprised you never mentioned that the Parthians were already here. He said that Parthia has been here for centuries.”
“Probably correct. Certainly a long time,” answered Marcus. “I thought you knew that, sir, sorry. The two territories are quite close, almost bordering on each other, separated by the Da Yuan and the Yuezhi.”
“No problem. But I have a favor to ask. Make sure you check with Ming to see what he has on schedule for me, before leaving the palace. Ming made a lot of introductions today, but the only name I remember was Bai Wei, he appears to be some sort of chief of staff or secretary to the Emperor, but all that Ming could say in Latin was ‘He tell when come see Emperor He.’ His Latin is not up to what I need.”
“I am sorry, I had no idea Ming would be taking you around so soon. Yes, Wei is the Emperor’s appointments secretary, a most important person.”
“The others were also, probably. Can you get with Ming to determine whom I saw, and what their positions are in the grand scheme of things, Marcus?”
“I will do so, sir.”
Turning to his still-smoldering cousin, he slapped him on the back, and led him to his stash of Hanaean rice wine and a rapidly dwindling stock of Italian wine. “Red or white, cousin? Then you can tell me what you and your pirate scoundrel talked about in town.”
CHAPTER 43: DIPLOMATIC INTRIGUE
It seemed that the Hanaean court could keep a secret, after all. They had kept Gan Ying’s expedition completely hidden from Cyrus years ago, and Ming’s role in it, though he had managed to ferret out its existence a few months after they had left. Just in time for a quick dispatch to Ctesiphon to warn the King of Kings Pacorus II of the expedition’s impending arrival, and recommend it not reach Rome.
The Parthian government never let him know what they did in response, and they had chosen not to tell him of the mission’s ultimate success in reaching Rome, and Aulus’s return mission. Ctesiphon certainly knew that, with the many Parthian agents in Rome and around Trajan’s court. In any event, Cyrus had not learned of Ming’s successful return with Aulus until a few weeks before their arrival, shortly after they had docked in Tianjin.
He was also surprised to learn that the expedition had bilingual, biliterate translators. He knew some of the Liqian peasants, particularly Wang Ming’s concubine Si Huar and her brother Si Nuo, but did not know that they spoke Latin, even had Latin names as well. Cyrus doubted that more than handful of Romans knew even rudimentary words in han-yu, and even fewer Hanaeans knew Latin. He had been counting on the language barrier preventing any serious two-way diplomatic contact for a long time. He understood now why, ten years ago, the Hanaean court had brought these rustic but bilingual country bumpkins from Gansu to the palace to be trained in court manners and protocol.
He was not surprised that the Hanaean court had kept all this a secret from him. That was their way. But he was concerned that his government had not kept him informed. No acknowledgement of his warning four years ago, so long ago that he had in fact forgotten all about it. No warning that the mission had gotten through, and a Roman return mission was enroute to Luoyang. Now here he was surprised, with a small but intrusive Roman emissary in his domain, and no clear guidance. He would just have to improvise.
Cyrus went to Ming’s office, was admitted and saluted him respectfully. “Welcome back, Master Ming, I hope your trip was not arduous. It has been many years since I have had the pleasure of your company and wise counsel.” The liquid vowels of the Hanaean tongue rippled smoothly from his mouth. “I hope sometime, at your convenience, you may share with me your great adventures.”
“Now would be fine, Kore-si,” answered Ming, using the Hanean pronunciation of his name. “Please, sit and I will have my servants bring us tea.” He clapped his hand, and a servant emerged from the shadows, bowed, left, and returned with steaming cups. They both sipped in silence, with Cyrus waiting for Ming to break the silence. It was their custom.
“The moon is beautiful on the open sea,” said Ming, poetically.
“It is indeed, Master Ming.” Cyrus hoped this poetical diversion would not take too long. “It reflects from the shattered mirrors of the waves.”
“Your poetry has improved in my absence, Kore-si.”
“It has been my pleasure to try to master your great language with my humble skills.”
“You have done well.” Another long introspective pause. “We spent a long time on ships, and I had many opportunities to observe the moon at sea.”
“The stars are also splendid in the desert, as at sea. Those who have not spent time in either have never really seen the stars.”
Another long pause. Ming clapped, and he servant fetched a pot to refill their cups. “You did not come here to share images of the moon and stars, Kore-si.” Ming chuckled, in a rare show of well-controlled humor. “You w
ant to hear of my visit to the Da Qin emperor.”
“Only if you wish to share it with me, Master Ming.”
“Ah well, it was an arduous trip getting there. After a long overland trip of many months, we reached your home of Anxi. We were surprised to find them expecting us, and your government provided a ship to take us to a port far to the south. Our translators met some Da Qin there who provided us another ship to take us north, at the end of which was a magnificent white city on the water, the most beautiful I have ever seen, with a lighthouse visible for many miles. We thought it was Rome, but it was just a way station. In another few weeks, we were in Rome, the capital of Da Qin. The Emperor was most cordial to us, and also to our translators. He had a special ceremony just for them, which we did not understand. Si Huar said she and the other translator are descendants of Da Qin soldiers defeated by your country a long time ago. At the end, Gan Ying and most of the others returned overland, but to date they have not returned. Very sad, they may have met some misfortune.” Another long silence, and more tea. “So do you have any questions, Kore-si?”
“How was your return trip?”
“The Romans built special ships for us. We spent some time in the beautiful white city by the sea, in a land as old as our own, with a magnificent library. There was a bit of a problem at sea, some problem with the shipping master. But it was all resolved, we rejoined, but had to leave one ship behind in India.”
“I am glad that all went well,” said Cyrus. Then he prematurely broached the subject he most needed to know. “Do you intend a close relation with the Da Qin as you have shared with the Anxi?”
“That is the decision of the Son of Heaven, not his lowly footservant.”
“May I offer my recommendation, Master Ming?”
“Of course, your advice is always welcome.”
“Our country has had the opportunity to be in close contact with both your Middle Kingdom and Rome for several centuries now. I cannot say enough about the close trust and affection we have for you and the Son of Heaven and all his ancestors. We have been at peace this whole time.
“We cannot say the same for the Romans. They speak sweetly of peace and brotherhood, freedom and justice, then stab us in the back, intrude on our territories, launch attacks that devastate wide swaths of our territory. They have not been good neighbors to us, or to any other of the peoples around the Middle Sea. I doubt they will be good friends to the Middle Kingdom. They are greedy and ruthless, and will not rest until all the world is enslaved to them. I do not recommend that the Son of Heaven form any close bond with them. Take what they offer, and send them home.”
“Your advice is noted, Kore-si. You have always been a good friend.” Ming finished his tea, then clapped his hands. “But now I must attend to many things that have been waiting my attention for five years. You must be sure, I will consider your advice.”
“Thank you, Master Ming” said Cyrus, saluting with a bow as he exited.
Wang Ming smiled. It seems that the Romans may not have a monopoly on double-dealing. When Gan Ying’s party arrived in Ctesiphom, the capital of Anxi, they had received a well-prepared and totally unexpected greeting from Kore-si’s government, thanks, they said, to a letter sent by Kore-si announcing their itinerary and destination, which had been a state secret, Kore-si carefully excluded from its planning. No matter, ambassadors are expected to poke into things that should not concern them. But then there was the roundabout detour into the Indian Ocean, and their abrupt abandonment by the skipper. “This is Rome, I must return,” was his last lie.
Fortunately the translators had located some Roman traders there, astounded to find such an important party seeking transport for an audience with Trajan. They were quickly put on a luxurious northbound ship, and on the way, were shown maps that revealed that the Parthians had sent them thousands of miles around Arabia quite intentionally. He would take Kore-si’s warning of Roman double-dealing with very many grains of salt.
Gan Ying had left the Da Qin capital almost three years ago to return overland, but they were a year overdue, almost certainly lost. Bai Wei, the imperial secretary, had advised him yesterday to be ready to meet Emperor He in the next few days and tell him of the results of the trip. Gan Ying was the professional diplomat and would have known what to tell the emperor. Wang Ming was uncertain how to do this, especially with the Parthians clearly meddling in this new relationship.
Ming retreated to Si Huar’s rooms in the women’s quarters. She was dressed in a beautiful blue silk shift, doing something with her hair with the aid of a servant. She rose when he entered and dismissed her servant girl with a gentle wave of her hands. She bowed in greeting: “Welcome, Master Ming!”
“Good day to you, Si Huar. I seek your advice on important matters concerning the Da Qin.” He sat down on the floor crosslegged in front of a table, and Si Huar sat modestly, knees together, on the other side.
“Shall I have tea brought?” asked Si Huar.
“No, I have drunk far too much tea this afternoon. You are the only Da Qin I trust enough to give me an honest answer,” answered Ming.
“I really know only what my parents taught me, from what their parents taught them. It is very old, and no longer accurate. The Rome I saw on our journey was not the Rome I had envisioned from our stories,” answered Si Huar.
“But if you were to have children, would you continue to teach them Latin and the old stories, as your parents did, and your ancestors before them?”
“But of course!” She paused. “That is not to say I judge my Roman side to be better than my Hanaean side. After five generations, there is very little of me that is still Roman.” She giggled. He smiled, and Si Huar offered a shy smile in return. These were things she rarely did with him, and he felt surprisingly affectionate toward her.
“What is it about being Da Qin that has made you keep that thought alive all this time?”
“Da Qin are much like Hanaeans in many ways, Ming,” she replied, omitting the ‘master.’ Ming chose not to correct her. “We both place high value on honor and honesty. Where we differ … the Roman side allows us to be individuals, to stand out, while the Hanaean side wants us to be harmonious. Inside the people of Liqian, that should be a conflict. But we have lived with it so long, the contradiction is part of our nature.” She smiled again. “Do you understand? Am I helping?”
“More than you know.” He also smiled, something he also rarely did with her, and the two sat for long minutes, just looking at each other with new understanding. He then reached across the table, took her hands in his, leaned forward and kissed her gently. This girl may prove useful after all.
Later that afternoon, they made love, and to Wang Ming’s great surprise, she seemed to enjoy it as much as he did.
CHAPTER 44: THE OFFICIAL PRESENTATION
Wang Ming stood before Bai Wei early the next morning, to find that he was to meet with the Son of Heaven after lunch. He was briefed on dress, protocol, manner of speaking, all of the details critical to that meeting. But Ming had never met the Emperor, or even seen him in person except at ceremonial occasions in the North Palace, from a great distance. He had, on occasion, made presentations to several of the Emperor’s most senior officials on matters financial, his area of expertise. But this would be wholly different, and the consequences of displeasing the emperor could be fatal. He did his best to conceal his inner turmoil.
He returned to his quarters in mid- morning, and dressed in his best blue silk robe. He had his servants carefully arrange his black shiny hair around the formal black curled hat. When all was in place about eleven, he decided to visit Si Huar in the women’s quarters again, but not for connubial reasons. She could exert a most calming influence on him, and he needed calming.
They exchanged pleasantries on his entry, then with uncharacteristic abruptness, he announced: “I am meeting with the Son of Heaven in a few hours.”
“You will do well. I am proud of you, Master Ming,” she said, while care
fully adjusting the fit of his robe, and tucking away a loose strand of his hair.
“Thank you, but I wish Master Gan Ying were here instead of me. He is the diplomat.”
“You will do well,” she repeated. “Just try not to say too much. Think of each word before you say it, because it will leave your lips like a bird, never to be retrieved.”
Ming found this new relationship with Si Huar stimulating. He had always thought of her as the child he had taken ten years ago, to be raised and disciplined. His stern discipline was paying off now, and she was becoming a useful source of counsel and advice.
They talked about much of nothing for a while. He did not want to sit down, for fear of disturbing his carefully arranged robe. Finally, after about half an hour, he made his departure, and arrived at Bai Wei’s reception area probably an hour ahead of time.
Eventually, the bronze door to the Emperor’s chamber swung open noiselessly, and Wei whispered, “You may go in now.” Ming took a deep breath and entered.
The door closed behind him, and he blinked, adjusting his eyes to the dim interior. Light entered from windows far away, and lanterns hung from the ceiling. More lanterns perched on square stone pedestals. At the far end sat the Son of Heaven on a plain black polished throne, elevated on a shining granite dais. Surrounding the dais was water flowing in a square channel that separated the emperor from his audience like a moat, lamps along its border casting reflected light off its placid surface.
Flanking the emperor were his most senior counselors, fifteen on a side, seated on their knees facing each other across the floor. Before each counselor was a low black lacquer table, some blank paper, ink and a writing brush, all carefully and identically arranged. In one corner, a tall pale green vase sprouted an array of fresh flowers, the only color and curved shape in the room otherwise decorated in shades of gray, black and blue squares. All was silent.
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