The Eagle and the Dragon, a Novel of Rome and China

by Lewis F. McIntyre

  Ming saluted very formally, bowed, swept his robes about him and knelt down. He lowered his head to the floor and remained there in total silence for what seemed like minutes. Far away, he could hear the tinkle of water filling the moat. Finally, the Son of Heaven summoned him. “Wang Ming, my good servant, please tell me of your mission to the land of the Da Qin.” This was Ming’s cue to return to a sitting position, his hands placed properly on his thighs, eyes downcast.

  “Son of Heaven, your servant Wang Ming brings you greetings from the Emperor Trajan of the Da Qin. He wishes you peace and good health, and has sent his envoys with gifts.”

  “I look forward to meeting his envoys,” replied the Son of Heaven, using the exaggerated and slow intonations of imperial speech. “What sort of place is this mysterious land?”

  “Son of Heaven, it is a big land, and I could only see a small part. It is the size of the Middle Kingdom, and the cities that I saw were vast, gleaming with white marble, and filled with people who were clean and healthy. They bring water from hundreds of miles away to their cities, and connect them with fine roads.”

  “They are not barbarians?”

  “They live in cities or farms. They read and write, but not as we do. Their writing is as strange as their speech, and your humble servant was able to master little of either.”

  “Tell me more about this emperor, Trajan is his name?”

  “Yes. Trajan appears to rule fairly and with justice. He is a military man who came to the position by merit. He is widely praised.”

  “Do they choose all their emperors by merit?”

  Si Huar’s analogy of words like birds came immediately to mind, for he had no idea how their emperors were chosen, other than Trajan himself; chosen, he was told, to replace an indecisive and unpopular one. Was this the rule? He did not know. And he did not know how the Son of Heaven would respond to ignorance of a question which might reflect badly on his own rule. In fact, he did not know for sure how the Hanaean emperors were chosen! Ming pondered his answer, drew a breath, and thought of Si Huar’s birds: “Son of Heaven, I do not know, except for this one case. I will attempt to get a better answer, if you wish.”

  A long silence filled the room, just the tinkling waterfall far away in the back of the room. Ming’s heart thudded in his chest.

  Finally, the Son of Heaven answered with just a hint of a smile. “There are few of my servants who have the courage to admit their ignorance of a fact. You answered well. I now will allow my counselors to pose additional questions.”

  There followed several questions from the counselors, mostly trivial: were the people tall or short? Did they all have beards? These were mostly related to various myths held by the Hanaeans about the people of the west. Wang Ming easily disposed of them.

  Then General Ban Chao spoke up. He was the senior military adviser to Emperor He, seated at the head of the right hand column of counselors, the one closest to the emperor. It was he who had organized Gan Ying’s expedition. “How was it that you came to be separated from Gan Ying?” The tone seemed accusatorial.

  “General Chao, it was by Gan Ying’s choosing. We completed our mission three years ago, and it was his desire to return expeditiously home by the overland route. I was to remain in the land of the Da Qin while they built three ships for their return mission. I and the five translators were to accompany the Da Qin envoys, see them safely through our ports and to the palace here in Luoyang, none of which they could do on their own. He should have returned by now. I fear some misfortune may have befallen him.”

  “Do you know his intended route?” asked General Chao.

  “I do. He gave me his itinerary before he left, which I brought with me, along with a copy of his report. He reached inside his robe to withdrew a paper roll. “I have read his itinerary. His report was sealed and addressed to you.”

  Without being asked, a servant appeared out of the shadows, and bowing, accepted the rolls from Ming and scurried over to give them to General Chao. The general studied the itinerary intensely, then announced: “I do not know some of the cities named, but he appears to have intended to return by way of the Anxi and Da Yuan, a very traditional route. Though on occasion bandits beset a caravan.” He paused, then continued. “Is there any chance the Da Qin may have done Gan Ying harm, preferring you and their envoy to return here, rather than his?”

  Ming lingered over his answer. He was suspicious now that the Parthian Anxi might have sabotaged Gan Ying’s return, not knowing that there was another enroute. But that bird of words, in Si Huar’s beautiful simile, was not yet old enough to leave the nest. “I saw nothing but cooperation and interest from all the Da Qin people we met, high and low. However, one cannot discount the possibility.”

  “We will attempt to retrace his route, to determine how far Gan Ying may have travelled and what may have befallen him. I will study his report. Thank you for your answers, Ming.”

  Ming bowed his head. “Excellency!”

  There followed another brief silence, then the Son of Heaven spoke. “If there are no other questions, I have one more difficult one for you, servant Ming.”

  “Son of Heaven, I will give you my best answer.”

  “Would you recommend that I meet with the Da Qin envoy now, or send them home as unwelcome guests?”

  Another long pause while Ming collected the squabbling birds in his mind. “Neither, sir. I have heard from some close to both the Middle Kingdom and the Da Qin that they are untrustworthy grasping devils that seek to rule the world, which does not align with the emperor and people we met. Gan Yang’s sealed report has not yet been read, which may contain his own insights and recommendations, which are far wiser than my own poor judgments...he is the diplomat, and I am but a financial officer. And there is the question of the disappearance of Gan Yang and his expedition on a well-travelled route.”

  “Who might have suggested the Da Qin might be untrustworthy?”

  “Son of Heaven, the Anxi have had a close relation with both our people for centuries.”

  “That they have. And I cannot imagine them wishing to share their relations with us with the Da Qin…Servant Ming, you have answered us well. You may leave while we ponder your wise answers.”

  “Son of Heaven!” Ming rose to his feet, bowed deeply at the waist, and backed out of the room. The bronze door swung open silently to permit his exit.

  CHAPTER 45: A NEW FREEDOM

  Aulus had avoided his cousin’s invitations to join him and Antonius in town the first week in Luoyang. He was expecting an imperial summons at any time, and needed to deal with the logistics of the expedition, using cover letters Ming had provided him that allowed him to send correspondence through the Hanaean post. All he had to do was attach one of the Hanaean cover letters to his Latin correspondence. The two were then given to Ming, who sent them to the port authority in Tianjin under his seal for delivery to the Da Qin vessels there. Delivery would take about two weeks each way, depending on weather, but it allowed him to maintain contact with the Asia and Europa.

  Aulus sent his first letter to Lucius Parvus describing the process. Parvus was to attach Ming’s covering letter to his response, and the port authorities would seal and deliver it back to the Imperial Palace.

  The letter was written in his fine uncial script, bringing Lucius up to date on the journey, and included a coded portion. He underlined one word in the clear text to be used as the key word in a Caesar cipher to decrypt the encoded text at the end, a simple cipher that he and Lucius had often used. Using the key, he encrypted the rest of the message, affirming his intent for them to sail on Ides of April, adding that he expected to be sailing with them. The Parthians could probably break such simple cipher, though the plain text alone would be inscrutable to the Hanaeans. Still, he felt better using it.

  That done, he delivered the first package to Ming, who accepted the letters graciously and remarked “Nice day! Why not go out town?”

  “I want to be available if Emp
eror He wants me to have an audience with him.”

  “Not today, I let you know if he want see you. Go enjoy nice day. Tomorrow will be cold again,” said Ming with a rare smile. His Latin was improving, even on occasion using case and tense correctly, even if only the simplest ones. Aulus, in his efforts to learn Hanaean, had found that the language not only didn’t have those grammatical distinctions, but the same word could be a noun, adjective or verb. It must be confusing to Ming to master concepts so totally unnecessary in Hanaean. At any rate, Ming’s Latin was far better than Aulus’ paltry Hanaean.

  “I am afraid I let Marcus go with Gaius and Antonius this morning. I should have gone with them.”

  “Si Huar go town, go with you.”

  “Si Huar?” Then he remembered, having heard Marcia’s Hanaean name before. “Oh, yes, she would be fine! Any problem?”

  “No problem. I get for you.” He clapped his hands, a servant appeared, and Ming chattered something in Hanaean. The servant bowed and left abruptly.”

  “Tea?” asked Ming.

  “Yes. Please,” replied Aulus. Ming clapped his hands again, and another servant brought china cups and a pot of steaming green tea. Aulus sat down on the pillow, trying to match the cat-like litheness with which Hanaeans seemed to sink into a seated posture, legs under them, knees together. Aulus felt anything but cat-like assuming the position, but at least no longer needed to brace himself with his hand to get into it.

  They sipped tea, while Ming studied some scrolls. There was no point in small talk, and Ming’s working spared them both the embarrassment of staring at each other, trying to think of something simple enough to say that the other would understand.

  After about half an hour, Marcia appeared in a green silk robe with a wide floral sash, her hair done up in a bun. She smiled and chatted with Ming, who returned the smile. Funny, I never saw the two of them smile at each other before. Marcia then turned to Aulus, and took his hand, Roman-style, beaming.

  “Aulus Aemilius, how good it is to see you!”

  “We have missed you also, Marcia. You seem to be well and happy.”

  “We are!” Aulus noticed that she said ‘we,’ not ‘I.’ Aulus had not been close to her, as they had been on different ships for most of the cruise; But he could not help noticing, after Ming ordered her return to the Asia after their rendezvous, that their relationship was stormy, and she was decidedly unhappy to be back in his company. Apparently their relationship had improved considerably since.

  “Ming offered me as your escort and translator, as I want to go out in town today, just to get out of the women’s quarters for a while. Have you seen the city of Luoyang yet?”

  “No, I haven’t. Gaius and Antonius have, and are out in town now with your brother.”

  Marcia turned to chat with Ming again, then turned to Aulus again. “We have all day, until sunset.” She bowed toward Ming, as did Aulus. Ming returned a headnod with a small smile. She turned and led him out of Ming’s office. “Let’s go!”

  Leaving the palace, they found it to be indeed one of those unusually warm days in December, bright sun with high horsetail clouds overhead in a deep blue sky, and a few puffy clouds scudding along the horizon in the light breezes. Other than the leafless trees, it could be springtime, and a few people were milling about the parks and vast white courtyard of the palace, or queuing up to leave by the gates to enjoy the town and riverside parks outside. Everyone knew this respite from winter would not last long, but it was to be enjoyed, however short.

  “You dress well, Hanaean style,” remarked Marcia. Aulus was clad in a dark blue wool robe over a lighter blue silk gown and black silk trousers, a black pill box hat on his head.

  “My toga would be out of place,” he chuckled. “It would attract too many stares. Other than my round Roman blue eyes and my inability to put more than five Hanaean words together in a sentence, I could be taken for a local!” He quipped, then continued. “Things seem well between you and Ming.” He was uncomfortable intruding on her private life.

  “Very well indeed, better than any in our time together. Ming had to meet with the Emperor last week, and he was quite concerned. He asked for my help to prepare information on things Roman. His meeting went well, and we have been very good together since.”

  “I am glad he sees you as more of a partner,” said Aulus.

  “Not really. I am still his courtesan, not his partner. But better to be appreciated than not.”

  They came to the eastern gate. Marcia spoke a few words through the sliding speakeasy in the door to the guard outside, and the door swung open to permit their exit past the impassive blue-clad guard. They went into the government administration part of town and proceeded north to the market area. Marcia pointed out the army headquarters building, and the financial center where Ming sometimes also worked. Reaching the market area, the streets were crowded with people, bustling about to do their shopping on such a fine day, a delightful hubbub of dogs barking, children playing, and a thousand conversations going on at once.

  Marcia took Aulus along on her errands, browsing markets, inspecting produce and haggling for prices, but buying little. “As a lady of the court, I don’t do normally do my own shopping. But this reminds me of when I was a little girl, going shopping in Liqian with my mother. And when I do buy, I give great status to the shopkeeper.”

  She purchased a small bag of rice and some fresh vegetables from the stall’s shopkeeper, who smiled effusively, bowing repeatedly as he accepted her coins. “Let’s get some lunch.”

  She found a small stall selling cooked meats and rice over charcoal grills. It reminded Aulus of the many cauponae food stalls that seemed to exist on every block in Rome. The meat was skewered on a long white stick of some sort, the rice steaming in a bowl with two more sticks. She purchased their lunch, and a bottle of warmed rice wine. Around the stalls were pillows on the ground for seating. Marcia sat down gracefully, Aulus less so, trying to avoid spilling his rice.

  “Do you know how to use the kuaizi?” she asked, pointing to his chopsticks. “I am sorry, I don’t know the Latin word for them. It means ‘quick bamboo’ in Hanaean.”

  “I don’t think there is a Latin word for them! Anyway, these are one of the first things I learned. You either learn to use these or eat with your hand, as someone told me.” Aulus picked up the chopsticks with some familiarity, and deposited most of a lump of rice in his mouth, with only a few grains finding their way to his robe. Marcia giggled, expertly snared a mouthful of rice from her bowl and reached across to playfully deposit it in Aulus’ open mouth.

  They had finished their lunch, and were halfway through the bottle of wine, when Gaius and Antonius, accompanied by Ibrahim and Marcus, rounded the corner. Aulus and Marcia rose with big smiles. Marcia greeted her brother with a tender handclasp, while Aulus accosted his cousin with a hug, then pumped Antonius’ hand in a firm Roman grip. He turned to Ibrahim with a bit less warmth. “I heard you were in town,” he said coolly. “Still stalking us, are you?”

  Ibrahim smiled behind his salt-and-pepper beard. “Not by intent. I am here to begin the end of my life as I began, as a shepherd. The grazing country begins west of here.”

  “I understand you have assembled quite a raiding party to capture your sheep!”

  “A few, yes. Yakov, Shmuel and Galosga from the Europa came along to make sure I didn’t get in any trouble, and a countryman I met in Tianjin, Musa. ”

  “So where are they today?”

  “They are off in Musa’s boat, fishing. He wanted to tighten the rigging and it is a beautiful day to be out.”

  “It is a nice day.”

  Marcia turned greet Antonius. “My dearest Antonius! It is such a pleasure to see you again! I have missed our long talks,” she said with a smile. She clasped his hand warmly.

  “Domina! My lady! I am hopin’ all be well with yer!”

  “All is very well!” she answered with smile. “Tell me all about your adventures!” The s
ix settled down onto the cushions, while the shopkeeper brought more food and wine.

  Across the street, in another food stall, Cyrus Mithridates observed the gathering, the flirtatious way that Marcia had fed Aulus a bite of rice, the warm greeting that she had given the rough soldier, and their close and intense personal conversation that seemed to exclude the other four. There could be something to be made of this encounter, he thought.

  CHAPTER 46: THE WATCHERS

  Cyrus pondered what he had seen in town. The Romans were unremarkable; they went out into the city frequently, though never before with Aulus. But the sixth man caught his attention, tall with an aristocratic bearing that indicated someone used to command... a westerner, obviously, with his well-trimmed beard, but Cyrus had been unable to pinpoint his ethnicity. The man could be from anywhere from Asia Minor to Spanish Iberia. And he was not part of the mission.

  It would not be unusual for Europeans to seek out their fellows in such a foreign land, if for no reason other than to speak in their native tongue, and exchange personal observations. Still, it seemed to bear closer inspection.

  Cyrus kept a small entourage of Hanaeans who would act as his eyes and ears for a few coins. Never against the Imperial government of course; that could risk a slow and agonizing death for treason and espionage. But harmless information on the reputation of a trader, or in this case, a westerner, was safe and easy money. And Cyrus never betrayed his sources.

  As expected, the respite from winter did not last long. The following day, cold air from the harsh northwest returned, borne by screaming winds that sought out every crack in palace or hovel, driving chill rain at a sharp angle. By day’s end, rain turned to sleet, then to snow. It was a few days before the weather subsided enough for the Romans to once again venture out. His sources brought in their first reports, none knowing of the others, all reporting very similar stories. The tall, bearded man possessed some wealth, silver coins in his purse, but spoke little Hanaean, and none of the agents were able to determine his name. He was in the company of another man, a boatman who spoke very good Hanaean. His name was Ma, a boatbuilder from Tianjin.