by Sam Meekings
‘As soon as I saw the interpreter I covered my face in an imitation of a fit of coughing lest he should catch sight of me and then, after he had passed, I rose and followed on as casually as I could.
‘It was not difficult to pursue that dome-shaped head through the crowds that milled outside the palace gate, though at times I had to push past men bearing petitions and pleas for their ruler in order to catch up with him, for he was a lithe man and carried a good ten years less than me. Men in fine robes were stepping out of the nearby courts and government offices, and it was a hard job keeping pace as they too blocked my path. Yet the interpreter slipped through the busy throngs with ease, and I nearly lost him when he turned abruptly into a tight lane between two rows of tall, stately buildings. I followed him down as quietly as I could, my back pressed against the damp brick as I sidled slowly in his wake, dodging a clutter of stray hens that pecked viciously at my sandals.
‘I emerged into a wide, almost deserted street, and thus found it easy to spot the interpreter. Just as in Palermo, the houses of officials and noblemen are nearest the palace, and any common loiterers are soon dealt with by the servants and attendants who wait upon these grand buildings. If I had not been so focused upon my mission, I would have had a mind to stop and admire the fine curved architecture of those great stone houses, their wooden gates topped with brass baubles, and signs covered with strange symbols announcing the status of the families within. The smell of herbs and fragrant flowers drifted from the high walls of the palace behind me, and I felt a sudden pang of nerves when the great gong from the drum tower rang out the hour.
‘Do you know, Rosso, that it is the most confident and assured men who are the easiest to pursue? They are so certain of their place in the world, so sure that they are untouchable, so aloof from the lowly world of servants and beggars, that they rarely bother to pay attention to the world around them. I trailed the interpreter all the way to his home, a small house just outside the affluent district undoubtedly reserved for men of titles and ancient honours.
‘His abode was of old brick, the red paint faded upon the sloping eaves. I stalked the perimeters, and was a little surprised at how modest the whole place was. Isn’t it always thus, that men of intelligence often rise to the top through sacrifice and perseverance, only to stand as mute witnesses to ignorance and indolence? It appeared, from my cursory glance through a low window, that he had only three servants and, in place of wife or children, lived with a handful of elderly relatives. The walls were covered with ink paintings of peonies, bamboo and feather grass, and I saw the old men of the house hold aloft curious vessels of curled wood, which they would occasionally press to their lips before breathing out spiralling plumes of grey vapour. I felt an affinity with the interpreter, for it seemed he too had turned away from women and family that he might remain utterly focused upon his studies.
After an hour, I forced myself to turn back and return to our lodgings in the southern precincts of the city, for I knew that you would be worrying for my health. Yet that was not the last time I visited the interpreter’s home. Though I admit the evidence was paltry, I could not give up the idea that the crow scar had been a sign.’
Lovari begins to cough, and I take the opportunity to wipe the sweat accumulating upon his brow. When he finally clears his throat once more, I see his lips are broken and bloodier than ever.
‘Over the next few days, I returned whenever I could. Yes, Rosso, those things I said – about having to work on our report for Father Montecorvino, or meet with some of the local merchants or begin assembling new recruits for our return journey – all were fabrications. Whenever you and the rest of our retinue left our rooms to visit the Dragon Observatory or the Source of Law Temple, I crept out and retraced my steps back towards the lanes that lay in the vast-reaching shadow of the Khan’s palace.
‘Something within me was awakened by this stealth, silently skulking through the city streets as though I was young again, and I thought of Father Teodoro. Suddenly my tired limbs ached a little less. Whenever the interpreter was at home, he could be seen sitting at his desk; a bulbous red lamp hung beside him for when the light grew dim. He seemed to work tirelessly, either hunched over old books, or else composing himself, making casual swipes with a fine brush in an ink that he seemed to miraculously conjure by dabbing a black stick in water. We fellow linguists know, however – do we not, brother? – that though the grammar and guiding principles of a language may be gleaned from a long study of the appropriate texts, the accents and stresses of its speech require frequent practice. He must therefore have often met and spoken with others from our own continent, and this knowledge fuelled my conviction that he was somehow of vital importance to my search.
‘On the second day of the second week that I kept watch, he left the house shortly after noon. This was not unusual, and I kept a leisurely pace as he wandered up towards the well-guarded mansions, for it seemed clear that he was simply making his way to the palace where his services were required. Yet when he ignored the thin alley leading to the courts and kept walking westwards, my curiosity was piqued once more. I was confident now that his scar was no coincidence; I was certain that he knew something of the Book of Crows, as Father Emiliano had called it, and that he would lead me to it.
‘He was moving away from the centre of the city, away from the homes of princes and governors, away from the Altar of Land and Grain, where it is said that countless crops are stored lest there should be a bad harvest in the future and the populace grow hungry, and away from the Royal Ancestral Temple, where the Khan and his family are said to offer sacrifice to the ghosts of their fathers. However, when he left the more populated streets, navigating the great curved lake and then passing by the lines of workers digging ditches which, I heard it said, would one day divert the grand canal to bring it to the capital, it became increasingly difficult to find spots to hide in. I resigned myself to walking freely in the open, yet, as before, the interpreter did not once look about him. He was a man of a very singular purpose.
‘I was quite out of breath when, over an hour later, we arrived at our destination. I was not overly surprised to find that he had led me to a temple, for where else does the learned man turn for answers but to the solace of the eternal? Yet this was no ordinary Cathaian temple, such as those we had seen dotted across the centre of the city. There were no red walls nor high-lipped green eaves, no wooden idols, no dog-faced lions nor ornamental arches; instead, as we passed through the successive courtyards, all I saw were piles of rubble, half-smashed walls and broken bricks, blackened pillars and clumps of ash. Even the oriental cypress trees, which I hid myself behind as I kept a safe distance away from my target, were burnt and shrivelled, the bark a crumbling black, still holding the sweet, cloying smell of bonfires. The whole place must have been destroyed with the rest of the old city when the Mongols invaded, and, while the rest of the capital rose up anew, this place was forgotten. I looked down and saw that my sandals were already caked in a muzzle of dust.
‘“Whrar tunge nee poong yowe.”
‘A deep, throaty voice suddenly emerged from somewhere in front of me. It did not belong to the interpreter. I crouched down and managed to make my way carefully to a hiding place behind a collapsed wall. Once settled behind the smoke-stained bricks, I was able to peer through a crack to see the final, largest courtyard, where the interpreter was talking to a man who had evidently been awaiting him. Yet where the interpreter was lithe, his companion had a quite remarkable girth, as well as a long, pointed beard.
‘The interpreter seemed to respond in the same haughty manner we had witnessed in the palace and, though I could not understand a word the two men were saying, it was clear that he spoke always with the same refined hiss. I shall not again try to imitate the prattle of their conversation, Rosso, for that would be tiresome for the both of us. However, one does not need to understand a language to work out what is being said.
‘The fat man seemed belligerent,
anxious. His breath was so laboured that I could hear it from my hiding place, and he kept a hand to his chest at all times while his dark eyes were restless and agitated. He spoke in long, serpentine sentences that seemed to rise into questions before faltering back into mumbles.
‘In contrast, the interpreter stood calm and still throughout the exchange and, when he deigned to reply to his companion’s nervous queries, it was only with the most perfunctory of retorts. They had conversed for only a few minutes before the interpreter seemed to grow tired, and raised his voice. The fat man fidgeted, and finally produced a scroll from the folds of his robe, which the interpreter snatched from him. The fat man seemed about to protest, but evidently thought better of it, and so merely bowed his head in resignation. He gave what I presume was a brief farewell before walking away, leaving me to cower and hide once more, lest he see me on his way out.
‘When I raised my head again I saw that the interpreter had settled himself upon an old gnarled stump and was examining the scroll, which he had untied and opened and held at arm’s length in front of him. I had to see it, so I began to crawl along behind the broken wall, until I felt I could risk raising my head above it. The interpreter did not stir; so involved was he in his study that I doubt he would have noticed had a whole army appeared at the gates of the temple. I was so close that, if I squinted, I could make out the pattern on the waxy red seal that adorned the scroll. It depicted a lone crow, its wings stretched out in flight.
‘My heart began to beat a little faster. I had to see more. And here, I must shamefully admit, my curiosity took precedence over my sense of caution. An irrational fear swept over me: that if I did not get that scroll right then, I would not get another chance. We were scheduled to begin our return journey in just under a week, and I knew that if I missed this opportunity – even if it was to come to nothing, like so many of the avenues I have explored – it would be tantamount not only to wasting the whole journey, but also to spitting upon the work of Father Teodoro and all the other brethren who had given their lives in this most sacred search.
‘The beauty of our habit is that the loose flow of the cloth enables the concealment of a number of pouches and, if necessary, a dagger. I had one such blade knotted to my calf, for from a young age I had resolved to always be prepared for the darker edge of human behaviour. Yet the constricting silks and tight robes worn by officials and notaries in Dadu meant it was unlikely that the interpreter had any such means to protect himself.
‘I could have crept up on him, delivered a blow to the head to render him unconscious and stolen the scroll for myself. I could have pressed the dagger to his throat until he had revealed its secrets to me. Perhaps in my youth I would have done such things, but experience is hard won, and I have always believed that more can be discovered through dialogue and debate than through threats and violence. Thus I stepped forward and revealed myself.
‘“Good sir, I believe you have something that may be of interest to me,” I said in my most formal Latin.
‘His eyes flickered up, though at first they seemed uncomprehending. It must have seemed strange to hear this mellifluous language in such circumstances, perhaps akin to you or me hearing the high Greek of the Old Testament in a tavern. Yet recognition came quickly and I noted that he betrayed little astonishment at seeing me there.
‘“No. You come to this nation as a guest, I believe, not as a thief. The dungeons of the Khan will be able to enlighten you as to the distinction between those two categories if you cannot fathom them for yourself,” he hissed, before returning to his reading.
‘“You do not seem surprised to see me. Perhaps you already know why I have come.”
‘He raised an eyebrow, then set the scroll down upon his lap.
‘“I understand enough of the greed of foreigners to know that they will take whatever they can from the people they purport to help. You do not even know how to read the writing on this paper, let alone of what it speaks, and yet you desire it nonetheless.”
‘He sighed wearily, in a manner that implied the mild disappointment a father might have for an unruly child.
‘“Let us stop pretending. I know what you have there, and it is of vital importance, not only to myself, but to the whole world. It is some kind of map, am I correct? It will lead you to the Last Gospel. You must give it to me,” I implored.
‘Suddenly his face changed, his narrow eyes creasing into venomous fissures, and he rose to his feet, his bony hands clenched tightly about the scroll.
‘“You are a fool. So you recognised the crow, the sign of my brotherhood? No doubt you think you know all about us. You are not the first, and as long as the legend survives there will be more like you. The ignorant, the foolish and the vain.”
‘He laughed and gestured around him.
‘“It is fitting that you have followed me here. There is a lesson for you in this ruined temple.”
‘I looked around at the crumbling bricks, the swirls of dust and ash, the black tatters of dipped branches. “From dust are all things roused, and to dust they will return. Perhaps you seek to remind me of the futility of my quest by showing me what can happen to a religion if its truths are tugged at, frayed, untangled,” I answered.
‘His lips twitched, as if caught upon a hook – neither smile nor sneer but something grotesque between the two.
‘“The seekers are always men of the most fervent faith, or men of no faith at all. Those in betwixt live content with what they can see and what they can grasp in their hands. No, I come again and again to this old temple because it is secret, it is forgotten, and that is how it should stay. The same is true of the book you seek. It brings only misery, pain, suffering.”
‘There, I had him – he had admitted he knew of the book. It meant the end of my thirty-year search was in sight. I could not believe how easy it had been, how much turned upon a symbol, a single phrase, a word. I could not help but think that somehow the book exerts such power that it draws those who know of it together, that it tugs us into its circumference, that we are like sun or moon responding to the pull of the earth as we circle it, moving ever closer. I rejoiced that the Lord had chosen me to find his work and bring about a new age at last.
‘“Then by the Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,’ I exclaimed, “you do know of the Last Gospel! You must lead me to it, my friend, that together we might lead our brothers – of all nations – out of darkness. I understand that you must test my faith, my motives, yet you must believe that I only seek to bring the truth to light. I have spent my life working for this, that we might save the souls of our brothers who toil in poverty, in ignorance and in shadow.”
‘The interpreter’s features seemed to soften as I spoke and, when I had finished, he sighed and bid me sit beside him on what remained of a burnt ledge. This I did – making sure, however, that the dagger strapped to my ankle remained in reach.
‘“I too wasted much of my life in search of answers. As you can see, I am a Han, which means I cannot become a high official, a judge, a governor. My grandfather came from a long line of noblemen, and yet I must bow daily before the Mongols and give thanks that the Khan has deigned to allow a Han inside his court. If I were not the best translator in his empire, I would not even have that luxury. Our mansion and farmland was, my grandfather told me, burned in the invasion. History turned, and we were left behind. As the furious army of horseman darkened the horizon, all that was saved – or so our family legend has it – were my great-great-grandfather’s books.
‘“While other children helped their parents with work or played games in the mud, I read. We lived thirteen of us in a two-room shack beside a marshy plot that grew little but mould, and every winter, to my eternal sorrow, we would set yet more of the books upon the fire to keep our bones from turning to ice. And so I sought to remember every word of every page, that they might somehow survive the years of storm and snow. It was in my fourteenth year that I found a reference to the Book of Crows, and by the beginning
of my sixteenth I had moved to Dadu and joined a fraternity of other Han looking for the most important work of our ancestors. If we could find that mythical book and learn from it the events of the future, then we would be able to find the weaknesses of the Mongols and so ensure that we were on the right side when history turned again.
‘“I met great men ruined by unforeseen turns of history; mandarins fallen suddenly from favour; landowners and farmers ruined by unexpected storms; governors and generals who had seen their careers cut to nothing by unheralded changes of allegiance. I met monks and philosophers, merchants and mercenaries, and even a number of foreigners like yourself, each consumed by the quest for the book, so that they might ride upon tomorrow’s wave. And consume them it did, for each of them was broken by the search, and each was left finding they had thrown away their chances to live in the present day for the chance of a future that never arrived.”
‘He sighed again most deeply, and for a second I felt a little sorry for him. The sin of doubt is a most oppressive thing. I had never considered that there might have been others besides the Order that sought the book, but the lure of forbidden knowledge is a dangerous thing, as Adam learnt to all of our peril in Eden, and I could only give thanks that the sacred book had not been found by one of these unscrupulous fellows who might have used it purely for his own vainglory.
‘“I hope you do not think by this story that you will dissuade me from my crusade. I too have known many men who have given their lives that one of us might find it. And you yourself obviously still long to discover its location – for why else would have you taken possession of that map?”