About mid-morning, Antonius fell in beside Marcia. In a low voice, so his Latin would not be heard, he whispered, “Marcia, I need to tell you… about the time in the cell… well, we were all going to die, but … but I don’t want you to feel obligated to…”
“Antonius, it was the most beautiful thing I ever experienced, despite the circumstances, and I will treasure it always, and carry my love for you in my heart as long as I live. You… you’re not obligated either. But I want you to know, Antonius Aristides, that I love you.”
Antonius pondered this in silence, then answered, “I have loved many men, the men who served under me, the men I fought alongside of - I mean I would die for them. And I wept when they died, or were hurt. I have never loved a woman that way, but yes, I would die for you. I…we all… chose to do that, and we almost did, so yes, I do love you also.” His hand gently touched hers, then briefly held it in a gentle squeeze. It was the most affection they could show for now. He then released it, his own hand hot as though he had been burned.
“Te amo, Antonie, te amo!” she replied, smiling but with a single tear trickling down her cheek. “Te amo!” She grinned broadly and said, “If we don’t switch back to han-yu, I’m going to find it hard to continue being celibate with you!”
Antonius chortled, “Right, domina!” He then switched to han-yu: “Beauty day, Si Huar!”
Marcia looked at him with puzzlement, then figured out what he was trying to say. “Yes, An-dun. It is truly the most beautiful day of my life.”
CHAPTER 56: IBRAHIM IN CHARGE
The new weiwei Minister of Guards had no illusions about his position. If he did not determine how the Da Qin had escaped execution and where they had gone, he would follow his predecessor to the chopping block. This incident was a huge embarrassment to the Son of Heaven, and it could cause major repercussions if they made it back their homeland.
He went over the files for the tenth time that morning. The guards had reported no comings and goings except Buddhist monks. He examined one report, “About mid-watch, several monks exited the palace…. How many? Several, I didn’t count them. More than five.” Hmm… midwatch would have been about ten o’clock, late for monks to be begging in the North Palace. He examined another, earlier one from the same guard. “Right after I assumed my watch, two monks requested entry, carrying food for prisoners.” It would be nice if he could ask the guard more questions, but unfortunately, he was one of many of the Dong Ming Sima battalion executed following the escape.
Yes, that’s it! That is why nothing came and went that night but monks, because that was how they left. And the two going in probably overpowered the guards somehow, freed the prisoners and disguised them. Out of character for non-violent Buddhist monks, but then they may not have been monks either. The more the weiwei thought about it, the more it looked like a brilliant cover that might serve the Da Qin well for weeks …no one looked at foreign monks.
The report came back from Tianjin that morning. The two Da Qin ships had sailed over a month ago, well before the incidents involving the envoys. Wang Ming testified that he had given them use of the postal system and they were free to correspond with their vessels. Ming had seen all such letters, written in Da Qin, but one of the envoys had always briefed him on its content. He had not kept any copies. So the Da Qin probably knew their ships had departed, perhaps even had directed them to do so. So there was no reason for them to go east! They would be trapped at the ocean, unable to leave for home.
Weiwei Chu Ting briefed the Tingwei and Taiwei on his findings. Circumstantial to be sure, but it made more sense than anything they had so far discovered. They would redirect their efforts to the west, and focus on parties of five monks or more. They had a two week headstart, but Chu Ting expected they would be traveling slow.
Emperor He summoned Ban Chao to a rare private meeting.
Ban Chao was ill, and not likely to live long. He certainly would not be joining his emperor on another southern hunting expedition next year. He had lost considerable weight, wracked by periodic bouts of coughing.
He was apprehensive about the meeting, but if the Son of Heaven wished him to be executed, perhaps it would be better than this lingering death. And he was deeply humiliated that his carefully planned expedition to the Da Qin had gone so seriously awry. He entered the throne room, prostrated himself on the cool granite floor until summoned to rise. “Welcome, my friend, please be seated. You do not appear well.”
“Thank you, Son of Heaven.” There was single cushion close to the moat separating him from the Emperor’s dais, with a small table, with a small lamp, paper and writing implements.
“Ban Chao, you are my dearest friend, and the Son of Heaven has few enough of those. I seek your advice, while you are still able to give it.”
Ban Chao listened in silence, his gaze focused on the table.
“What should I do with our former guests, the Da Qin?”
“They created a considerable turmoil in your court, before all of the Councilors. It was right to order their execution. The Son of Heaven cannot be seen to endure a public insult.”
“You are correct, Ban Chao. But was an insult intended? You were present, and you also know the way of westerners better than any man in the Middle Kingdom.”
“Their ways are different, Son of Heaven. They do not bow in submission, and the further west one goes, the less common it becomes. Indeed, it becomes a mark of humiliation.”
“What of their courts? Their leader spoke of trials, charges and representations. These were terms I did not fully understand.”
“May I complement you on your command of their language, Son of Heaven? While I do not speak it, I observed that they appeared to understand you perfectly, and I could detect no hesitation or uncertainty in your speech.”
“I have mastered several other languages, including those of the Yuezhi and Xiongnu, so I am never at the mercy of a translator. Now tell me about their courts.”
“I do not know the practices of the Da Qin, but the Da Yuan say they are similarto their own, and they too place great value on justice, and expect that every man should hear the charges before him, speak in his behalf, and call witnesses.”
“This case should never have appeared before me!” Emperor He replied, with uncharacteristic vehemence.“This was a minor incident between a man and his concubine, but because of the weiwei’s incompetence, it became elevated so that I could not refer it back down to its proper level. Nevertheless, it was my intent to dismiss the girl’s case with an admonishment, until the Da Qin made a confrontation out of it.” Emperor He continued,“It was a very brave thing they did, not allowing one of their own to be executed without demanding that I execute all of them. From there on, I had no choice, with this happening before my court. Now, if they are successful in making their way back to their homeland, they will meet with their emperor, to describe us as unjust and barbaric.”
He paused, thinking, then continued.“If I were to send a letter to their emperor, I believe his name is Trajan, could you tell me how such a letter might be delivered?”
“Son of Heaven, I believe if you sent the letter to the Da Yuan king, he would know how to send it on. It will probably take a year or more.”
“Good. I do not yet know what I want to say but it will be favorable.”
“I am not surprised at your offer. Do you intend to free the envoys if they are apprehended before they leave the Middle Kingdom?”
“I do, and I intend to order that they not be harmed if they are apprehended. They have earned their freedom. Thank you, Ban Chao, and mind yourhealth.”
Galosga rapidly became one of the most adept speakers of han-yu, and even excelled in mastering their script. In less than a week, he was speaking better than anyone else, with a rapidly burgeoning vocabulary. The reason was the simplicity of han-yu, and his total immersion in just a single language. Han-yu words were short, and the position of the words was always the same. The tones that gave others su
ch problems were familiar to Galosga… though his language used them differently. And the language had no grammar, no endings. He found the pictographic written language not dissimilar in concept to those his people used to inscribe long stories on bark with pictures. He was a storyteller in his home, and had often used bark tablets to keep himself in the story.
For years, Galosga had been regarded as slow-witted by others, due to his inability to communicate beyond the most basic level. He often felt that way, himself. Now he sought conversation with others at every opportunity.
Antonius was the first to hear the strange man’s storyof how he had come to be here.“So, Gisga,” he said, using Galosga’s han-yu name.“How you come here? Where from?” Antonius’ han-yu was much more halting than Galosga’s.
“Born in mountains, many pines, oak. Squirrels and deer. Nice place, peaceful. I went to trade by seacoast, mountain goods for dried fish, shells. Big ship there by ocean village. Not big like our ship, but most big I see yet. Strange men, like you, not like me. They waved, call me aboard. Think we going fishing, come back that day. But no, land go away, I pull ropes, bail water, weeks and weeks. I tell I want go home, but they don’t understand. We come to big city by water. Not big like many seen since, but big to me then. Shmuel says name Gads, Gadet?”
“Gades in Hispania? And weeks to get there?”
“From Gades, another port, new ship. Shmuel says name Orion, then Alexandria and our ship.”
“Sound like stole you, made you work. Home have name?”
“Etowah. I know name, not where. Like I know name here, but not where.” He laughed with gusto.“Have not made joke in many year!”
Shmuel and Yakov were also isolated by language, less so than Galosga, but isolated nevertheless, Aramaic with just a smattering of Greek. This limited their conversation with everyone except Ibrahim. Like Galosga, they found their new common language easy to learn, and allowed them to share their stories with the rest of their party rather than remaining on the fringes.
Shmuel was born to Jewish parents, refugees in Galilee after the Jewish rebellion thirty years prior. In his teenage years he joined a band of Jewish outlaws. Before too long, they had attracted too high a price on their heads, and Shmuel parted company with them, took to sea in the Orion out of Tyre, which picked up Galosga in Carthage. He and Galosga had become friends, and eventually signed onto the Europa’s crew in Alexandria.
Yakov was orphaned as a child in Petra. Living on the streets, he got by the only way he could, as pickpocket and petty thief, acquiring some skill with a dagger. Ibrahim adopted him after the urchin tried to steal the Arab’s purse. Now about thirty, he viewed Ibrahim as the father he never knew.
After about a week, the party reached the outskirts of Sanmenxia,“the Gorge of Three Gateways," where two islands split the Huang He River there into parts.
Sanmenxai sat in a flat plane on the Huang He, with mountain ranges to the north and south, built on the southernmost of the two islands. Several graceful bridges spanned the river channels joining the islands to each other and to the mainland.
They camped on the outskirts, and Ibrahim dispatched Yakov and Demosthenes to quietly ensure that the town had not been alerted, and to see what might be available there. They returned at sundown with good news: there was no apparent alert, and there was a small new temple there that might accommodate the ‘monks’ overnight.
Demosthenes was concerned that the training of his charges might not have been sufficient, that they would be exposed immediately as false monks. This was his dukkha, his suffering and anxiety. He contemplated the Eightfold Path: Right Understanding, Right Intention, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration.
Where had he erred? How had things become so unbalanced, from the supremely peaceful existence he had known just a month ago? Right Understanding? He had seen the reality of his friends’ plight correctly, knowing they would die without his help. Right Intention? Taking action and helping them meant disruption and disharmony. Right Action? Two men were dead who had done him no harm, and there would likely be more. Right Speech? He would have to deceive the monks at the temple. His karma, his actions, were bearing fruit and the fruit was bitter. But in no way could he have not done same thing over again. For all he wished not to bear this burden, he was also profoundly glad to have saved his friends.
He wished he could discuss this situation with a wise tutor who could guide him in the way of correct action, but even that path was closed to him for now.
The temple was indeed small, a wood-framed building with a wrap-around porch with red columns, a large house given to the order for conversion to a temple. Monks knelt on the porch, studying scrolls, conversing quietly or simply sitting, some in lotus position, their faces devoid of expression as they contemplated existence.
Demosthenes climbed the steps of the porch to the entrance, where he was met by an elder monk, whose bushy white eyebrows were the only facial hair on pale, almost bluish skin. He introduced himself as the abbot.
“May the enlightenment of the Great Lord Buddha be upon you,” Demosthenes intoned.
“And on you, my son,” answered the abbot.
“I am escorting five samaneras novitiates and one samaneri female to the Great Temple at Dunhuang. Could the temple accommodate us overnight, as we have walked the hundred miles from Luoyang?
The abbot answered with a smile, “To be sure, my son. But… a samaneri nun traveling with males? That is unusual and a challenge to chastity, especially for novitiates who have not yet quenched the fires of the flesh.”
“Yes, that is unusual, but there are so few bukkhini nuns in Luoyang, and the roads are dangerous for women traveling without men. I assure you, they are all chaste.”
“To be sure. You are welcome here, bring them in.”
“Might my friends camp in the compound with their oxcart? They are not Buddhist, but common folk who have graciously allowed us to travel with them and avail ourselves of their oxcart and food.”
“No, please, we have accommodations for all, and they may come and go as they please, if they but refrain from loudness, drunkenness or lewd behavior”
“Thank you, abbot. I apologize in advance for my noviates’ rudimentary knowledge of the practices of our faith; they are recent converts, on their way to Dunhuang to gain a fuller understanding.”
“They are forgiven in advance,” smiled the abbot. “Their determination is commendable, as that journey is thirty-six hundred li!”
Demosthenes thanked the abbot, and returned to his companions with the news.
“Everyone can stay. It will be spartan, but it will be a cot, not the ground. By the way, Dunhuang is thirty-six hundred li from here, and I think Kashgar is about twice as far.”
“How far is a li?” asked Antonius.
“About four hundred paces.”
Antonius considered this. A Roman mile was a thousand paces, about five thousand feet. “That’s about fourteen hundred miles!”
“Yes, but quietly, now. Let us all contemplate the meaning of distance.” Demosthenes smiled as Antonius grumped and fell silent. It would take at least six months.
Fortunately, the abbot put a premium on silence among his community, and the next two days were spent in silent prayer. They joined in the chants, their sonorous droning coming along quite credibly. After two days of much needed rest, they were on their way again to Chang’an.
CHAPTER 57: A HOME IN THE MOUNTAINS
The erstwhile peasants and monks had paralleled the Huang He River since before Sanmenxia, its levee-banked surface teaming with all kinds of craft, naval riverboats, freighter chuan, and hundreds of small fishing boats, the banks lined with villages and docks every few miles. The big yellow river made a sharp turn north at the junction with the Wei River, and the oxcart had continued on, creaking along the big east-west highway to the outskirts of Chang’an after several more days.
The total immer
sion in han-yu had worked wonders for all of them. Gaius and Antonius started off one morning in conversation that lasted over five minutes before they realized they weren’t speaking Latin.
Marcus related the town’s recent past as they looked off at the impressively well-walled city surrounded by a wide moat from a low rise. “There was a civil war seventy-five years ago, and the emperor was killed. A large part of this city was sacked by peasant rebels, and much of the interior was destroyed and has not been rebuilt yet. But it is still a provincial capital and a very important place.” In the distance they could see the sharply-sloped walls, about four miles on a side and thirty feet high, pierced by three gates on each sides. Bridges over the moat connected the city gates to the broad avenues approaching the city.
“Impressive,” said Aulus. “It is as bigger or bigger than Rome, and better laid out.”
Ibrahim sent Yakov and Demetrios off to reconnoiter the city. They returned soon after with a bad report: they had been warned by outgoing monks to avoid the city. The guards were looking for “false ones,” westerners disguised as bukkhu and bukkhini. All western-appearing monks were being detained for “intense” questioning.
Ibrahim quickly called a council of war in han-yu to avoid multiple translations. “Yes,” he said, “Our cover no good anymore. Si Nuo, Dim, you know area best. Where to go?” He was using Marcus and Demetrios’ Hanaean names.
“Clearly north,” relied Marcus, “But I don’t know where.”
“Not good. Mountains to north?” asked Ibrahim.
“Yes, quite a few, you can see them from here.”
“We should backtrack and cross Wei River bridge we passed a while ago,” Gaius added. “Hopefully, caves in mountains, time and place to hide, make new plan.”
The Eagle and the Dragon, a Novel of Rome and China Page 41