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

by Lewis F. McIntyre

  “Any reputation on him?” asked Aulus. “Bloodthirsty, arbitrary, or just hard-headed?”

  “Dim said he has a reputation for being easy-going,” she answered.

  Aulus shook his head. “He must be having a bad day.”

  Marcia smiled and said, “I remember the meeting was formal in the Hanaean style. None of our group had either Bactrian or Greek.”

  “Well, we will see.”

  Marcia wheeled Excelsior around and fell back to ride with Antonius.

  Ibrahim was the next to ride up. “Well done, Aulus,” he said quietly in Latin. “They let us keep our weapons, which is a good sign, though I presume they will make us get rid of them before we go into the palace.”

  “Or maybe they expect to execute us with them.”

  “He expected ten of us, so the information he has comes from Luoyang. And despite it all, we seemed to be on good terms with Emperor He as we exited on safe passage,” offered Ibrahim.

  “Well, if Emperor He can change his mind once, maybe he changed it back again.” Aulus was very much not in a positive mood.

  “Play it by ear, my friend. The gods would not have thrown such an unlikely pair as you and I together just to have us die to no end.”

  “Those the gods would destroy, they first make mad. But yes, we are the most unlikely of friends, you damned pirate, and we both have had a hell of a run, even if this is as far as we get!” Aulus felt his stiff face smile, and a chuckle leave his lips unbidden. “You never get discouraged, do you?”

  “Not possible in my line of work. Always another rich merchant to take down!” He whirled his horse off to leave Aulus to continue alone.

  Boni’s troops led them around toward the back of the palace, leaving the wagon with their goods parked at a side entrance. The riders continued around back to an entrance into the basement stalls, rich with the odor of horses, hempen rope, leather, manure and hay, the rough wood glowing amber in the light of oil lamps high on the walls. Perhaps fifty stalls lined both sides, and as the riders entered a number of grooms clambered up out of the hay in which they had been waiting, ready to receive the animals. Everyone dismounted, relinquishing their mounts to the grooms, giving special instructions as necessary in Bactrian.

  Marcia patted Excelsior’s nose. “Good boy!” she said, producing a little sweet which his velvet lips happily nibbled up. “We’ll see you later! Be nice to these boys!” He whinnied and stamped his foot as she departed. At the far end of the stalls was a door to the basement of the palace, entering onto a stone-walled room with a flagstone floor, at the far end of which was a barred gate. Aulus’s heart was thudding in his chest. He hissed to Ibrahim, “Damn! Looks like a prison to me!”

  “I’m not sure it is. I think they would have disarmed us by now. Take a deep breath and assume the best.”

  Boni confirmed Ibrahim’s opinion. “This is the armory. Please remove your weapons. Senator Aulus, we will provide you an inventory so you may retrieve them on your departure, but weapons are not allowed beyond this point.”

  Aulus’s sign of relief was audible. “Certainly!” he said, though feeling very uncertain as he unbuckled his sword and dagger. Demosthenes translated for the others.

  Another soldier appeared on the other side of the barred gate, unlocked it from the inside, and sat down a low table with an oil lamp to record the weapons. “Name, please,” he asked.

  “Aulus Aemilius Galba.”

  Boni handed the man Aulus’s weapons, and the information was duly recorded on two scrolls. The rest of the party followed suit, ending with Antonius and Marcia.

  “Hsst, domina,” he cautioned Marcia in Latin. “Don’t try to slip in your shoulder rig. They’ll probably pat us down.”

  She reluctantly lifted the weapons lanyard from around her throat and put it in her pile. “Marcia Lucia!” she said to the attendant.

  Antonius was right. There was a quick pat down of all to make sure no one had tried to conceal a weapon; even stockings were checked for small knives. The attendant handed a copy of the inventory to Aulus, then Boni led them up the stone steps to the main floor through a massive pair of wooden doors guarded by two impassive soldiers armed with spears. They emerged onto a gleaming marble hallway, with a white ceiling, yellow marble with white veins on the walls, and grey floors. A series of polished and intricately carved doors ran along each side, and a larger door sat at the end. Carved white marble sconces held lamps that gave the windowless passage a warm glow. Boni knocked on one of the doors and five servants appeared clad in white tunics.

  “These are our guest quarters,” announced Boni. “Senator, this is yours.” He opened the door to display a large, well-laid out accommodation, lamps already lit and clothes laid out on the bed. Aulus looked in, nodding approvingly, but stayed outside to make sure everyone else was properly set up.

  “The bath is through the large doors at the end of this hallway,” continued Boni. “There are robes and dress clothes in your rooms, and the servants will take your traveling clothes and have them washed for you. I will come in an hour to take you to the king. If there is anything you need, the servants will take care of them for you. Do you have any questions?”

  “Thanks you for your hospitality,” answered Aulus, extending his hand.

  Boni took it and nodded. “You’re most welcome.” He turned on his heel and exited back down to the basement.

  Aulus turned to the group and announced in han-yu, their other lingua franca, “Looks like if we are to be imprisoned, at least the cells are more comfortable than the last one in Luoyang!” This provoked some chuckles and smiles from all. “See you in the bath in a few minutes. I, for one, desperately need one!”

  The servants escorted everyone to their assigned rooms. Only two minor problems emerged: Marcia and Antonius were assigned separate accommodations, and Marcia preferred western garb rather than the Hanaean robes in her room. The first problem was instantly corrected, and the servants set off in search of an appropriate stola for her… apparently they had a stash of Roman clothing, and probably clothing for every other major empire around them. Bagram Palace seemed to be a crossroads of civilizations.

  There were white linen robes on hooks in each room, and a few minutes later everyone clustered around the bath, a grey-tiled waist-deep pool full of water about twenty feet long in a red-walled room that added to the warm feel. Bowls of multi-colored balls of lavender-scented soap lined each side; brass pegs for clothing and shelves of white towels lined the walls. Antonius and Marcia retired to one end for a modicum of modesty to shed their robes and ease into the warm water, while everyone else did likewise at the other end.

  Once the group had soaked and scrubbed off the sweat and grime of the past few weeks, they relaxed in the warm steamy water until Marcia and Antonius began cavorting like children at the other end, splashing each other and giggling. Antonius poured water over her head, and she threw herself on him and dunked him. Gaius watched them, and turning to Aulus with a grin, dragged his hand along the surface of the water to splash his cousin. Before long the rest of the men joined in, their laughter and splashes echoing hollowly in the room. It was a welcome respite from the rigors of the past months on the road.

  Back in their rooms, they found clothing of the appropriate rank and style hanging in their closets, along with mirrors, razors and combs. Fully refreshed and re-groomed, they reassembled in the hallway to await Boni. Aulus, Gaius and Antonius were clad in togas and tunics, each thoroughly chalked to a dazzling white and appropriately marked, Aulus’s with the broad Senatorial purple stripe, Gaius’ tunic with a narrow equestrian purple stripe, Antonius’ plain. Marcia wore a white ankle-length silk stola with a modestly opaque weave elegant in its simplicity, and a translucent yellow silk wrap. Demosthenes wore a white silk chlamys tunic while Ibrahim, Yakov and Shmuel wore multi-colored robes with headbands. Whoever knew we were coming knew a lot about us, thought Aulus.

  Boni arrived and escorted them into an open interi
or court, illuminated by the wide open colonnaded entrance which soared fifty feet high. Along the top of the side walls, grated windows admitted more light, and above their heads, lamps suspended on hoists from the ceiling provided additional illumination. The pungent scent of burning incense filled the air, but Aulus could not determine the source. Across the black marble floor, a variety of people came and went about whatever important business brought them to the palace.

  There was a red marble ceremonial throne, vacant, at the back of the court, flanked by unlit gold braziers on either side, and four dark green Corinthian columns from floor to the vaulted ceiling. Boni passed around the throne wordlessly, and led them to a wooden door guarded by two soldiers with spears who snapped erect at his approach. He spoke softly to them and they faced inward to admit them.

  Inside was a white room, lined with comfortable looking brown leather couches. A wizened old man in a white tunic with a beard to match was working at a table with an assortment of scrolls, ink and writing implements. The man stood when they entered, and he and Boni spoke softly, their heads together. Boni pointed toward Aulus, the man nodded attentively, then Boni turned and left without saying goodbye.

  The man stepped swiftly around his table with a scroll and introduced himself in Greek. His manner reminded Aulus of a twittering, restless bird. “I am Rustam, the chief of protocol. You will be meeting with King Vima and it is my job to make sure it all goes smoothly. You are Senator Aulus Aemilius Galba?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I trust your accommodations are satisfactory?”

  “For the few minutes we have been in them, they seem very much so.”

  “I would like to go over the spelling and pronunciation of each of your party.” He handed the scroll to Aulus, while Aulus scrutinized the list and handed it back.

  “Now titles. You are a Senator, and what brings you here?”

  “I am the ambassador to the Hanaean Emperor, returning home.”

  Rustam scribbled some notes next to the name, then asked, “Who is next, in order of seniority?”

  “That would be Gaius Lucullus, legate of Legio XII Fulminata, last operating in Syria three years ago. He is head of our military delegation. Next would be Antonius Aristides, senior centurion of the same legion, and his wife Marcia Lucia, also our Hanaean translator.”

  The old man smiled and bowed at the two. “Charming couple, congratulations!” He returned to his scroll. “Next?”

  “Hmm…” Aulus considered his next answer, then said, “Ibrahim bin Yusuf, my shipping master, traveling overland with us for personal edification, and his son Yakov of Petra, your countryman Demosthenes, of Bactra and finally Shmuel bin Eliazar, a friend.”

  Rustam repeated each name. Aulus was impressed with his pronunciation, particularly of the Aramaic names. “Excellent. Do you speak Latin and Aramaic as well as you pronounce it?”

  “Ah yes, in my humble work it is necessary to manage many languages.”

  “In what language will our meeting be conducted?” asked Aulus.

  “For you, in Greek.”

  “Not all of my people speak Greek well, but we all speak Bactrian with various degrees of facility. Could we conduct the meeting in that language, so we do not have the distraction of simultaneous translation?”

  “How well do you speak Bactrian?” asked Rustam, switching abruptly to that language.

  Aulus hesitated a moment, mentally shifting linguistics. “Ah… yes. Not nearly as well as I want, only five months speaking. But think we make ourselves understood, if accent and grammar not embarrassing.”

  “Excellent! Only five months and you do quite well. The king would actually be most pleased to do that, as there are many in the court that would like to see our language used exclusively for government instead of Greek, which they consider foreign.”

  “For clarity, I may go back to Greek sometimes.”

  “He will not mind.” He paused a moment to change topics. “You will be meeting in the King’s private chambers, through that door over there. I will announce you one at a time, in the order of seniority you gave me, then you go in, and stand right to left in the order you came in. When the King gives you permission to be seated, take your seats in the chairs provided. Let him lead the discussion. At the end, if he asks you to stay for wine, you have done well. If he asks you to stay for dinner, you will have done very well indeed!”

  “I thought it would be Hanaean style, with bowing and so forth. Marcia Lucia was part of Hanaean party, pass through here heading west six or so years ago, and she said much more like Hanaean court, than what you say.”

  Rustam scrutinized Marcia closely, then suddenly smiled broadly. “I do remember you! There are few women that participate in royal meetings, and I remember your face, though you are now dressed in Roman style… because of the wedding?”

  “One of many reasons,” answered Marcia.

  “Truly beautiful you are, Marcia. We try to adapt our meetings with foreign nations in a style to which they are accustomed. The Hanaeans expect a great deal of formality, we give them that, the Parthians some, and the Romans chafe at any. This has been tailored for you, Senator. So do you have any questions?”

  “None, and thank you for the thorough preparation,” answered Aulus.

  “I must go into the inner sanctum and prepare King Vima for the meeting. I will be back in a few minutes and then this will begin. Will you excuse me?”

  “Certainly, go about your business,” answered Aulus. Rustam smiled and exited through the door into the king’s private chambers, clutching his scrolls.

  Aulus gathered Ibrahim and Gaius about him, barely able to contain his pleasure at how well this meeting was progressing. “This is going far better than I expected when it started!”

  “Just remember, cousin, tread lightly. Let’s congratulate ourselves when it is over,” said Gaius, with Ibrahim nodding in agreement.

  Rustam returned after about ten minutes. Aulus had time for one last question for him. “What is the king’s preferred address?” asked Aulus.

  “Initially, in Bactrian, it will be Shaonan Shao, in Greek, Basileus Basileon, ‘King of Kings.’ After the initial exchange, you may use just ‘Your Excellency.’”

  The door opened. It was time. Rustam entered into the throne room and announced, “Senator Aulus Aemilius Galba of Rome!”

  Aulus walked in, stopped next to Rustam’s right as directed, and proclaimed, “Greetings to Shaonan Shao Vima Kadphises, King of Bactria of the Thousand Richest Cities, from Imperator Caesar Nerva Trajan, Son of the Divine Nerva, Son of Augustus the Best Ruler.” As he said this, he hoped he was not putting Trajan in competition with the Bactrian King.

  Rustam likewise announced each of the party in the agreed order, who each greeted the Shaoan Shao, and then took their place to the left of the gathering group.

  Aulus surveyed the private throne room. More marble, the beautiful yellow that appeared to be the same as that of their quarters. The throne was black, with gold armrests held up in front by gargoyles, glaring red faces with gilded eyes and protruding triangular tongues. Along the wall stood a statue of Buddha to the king’s right, and a statue of a very anatomically correct naked woman to his left. Behind the throne was an intricate tapestry depicting various hunting scenes, in whites, greens, browns and black. White sconces held lamps casting a steady illumination. To the king’s left, a tunic-clad man sat at a table, apparently acting as a scribe, taking notes on a scroll.

  Aulus also scrutinized the king. His features were sharp, with a precisely trimmed brown beard just edging the line of his jaw, and brown eyes that never once took their gaze off Aulus. He wore a simple silver diadem on curly hair with a hint of gray at the temples, and was clad in silk, an outer robe of purple edged with gold and silver trim, over an elaborate green and white salwar kamis. He sat unmoving with his hands along the arm rest, almost a part of the throne.

  “Greetings and welcome to my kingdom, esteemed travelers.” He
paused for effect. “Aulus Aemilius, please relate to me the story of how you came to be here, especially how a notorious pirate came to be your shipping master. My empire has maritime interests through our ports at the mouth of the Indus, and he is known there by reputation, if not yet by predation.”

  Antonius had once told Aulus about a trap constructed to kill or injure soldiers: a pit, lined with sharpened stakes, broken swords or spears, overlaid with a thin mat and covered with leaves and brushes. When an unwitting soldier stepped on the mat, he fell through to be impaled on the waiting sharp objects. Aulus’s heart thudded while he paused to consider how to back off the imaginary mat creaking under his weight before it gave way. They seem to know everything about us. So let us give them the truth and not omit any details. He took a deep breath.

  “Your Excellency, I apologize for my bad Bactrian, I only speak a few months. I praise your people for finding important facts. Yes, that is Ibrahim bin Yusuf, most notorious pirate in the eastern Mediterranean and also now our closest friend, who has saved our lives many times. Your Excellency’s permission, I let my friend speak for himself, how this began with hijacking and ended with friendship.” The king gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and Aulus continued, “Ibrahim, your story please. Tell all, from Alexandria.” Ibrahim is quick on his feet, he will realize what I am saying. Lies will likely be fatal.

  Ibrahim paused to collect his thoughts, then spoke “Your Excellency, I am that man. I scout ships, take but the weakest, leave rest to thrive. Like wolves. Three years ago, I learn of Aulus’s mission through his shipping master, Hasdrubal. Very rich ships, lot of gold and silver. I plan to take one ship early.” He summarized the planning and execution’s Hasdrubal’s perfidy and his countermove, then paused for effect. Aulus attempted to gauge the Shaona Shao’s willingness to believe this, but saw only interest. “Continue,” said the king. He had not moved a muscle since they first came into the throne room.

  Ibrahim described Gaius’ and Antonius’ rsistance, then the storm. “The worst I had ever seen. I released them to help fight the ship through it. I went overboard, and Antonius rescued me.”