The Divining (38 page)

     Ulrika was in Sebastianus's thoughts day and night. Every single new thing he met and marveled at made him wish to share it with her. His love for her had grown over the miles and the months. He thought of the Social Flowers who greeted him and his companions in the evenings, after a day spent with the emperor or with astrologers and philosophers and other learned men. Beautiful young women, slim and delicate, like lilies indeed, demure and compliant, sweetly scented and softly spoken. They gave pleasure, as their name promised, but Sebastianus found it to be an empty pleasure, as there was only one woman whose embrace he truly desired.

     Sebastianus had achieved his goal of reaching the throne of China. He knew that honors awaited him in Rome, that his name would be spoken far and wide for his achievement. But, in the end, what he had learned from Chinese philosophers and astrologers, from the emperor and his mandarins, from people in the streets and merchants' stalls, from the Social Flowers even, was that love was more important than honors and fame and knowledge. After nearly a year of drinking in this exotic culture and soaking up China's wisdom, Sebastianus knew that it was all empty if he had no one with whom to share it.

     And what of Ulrika's life? What was she doing at that moment? Where was she? Was she happy or sad? Did she find her mother in Jerusalem? Did
she find an explanation for her visions? Does she now know the meaning of the Divining and the location of Shalamandar? Sebastianus did not want to miss out on the milestones of Ulrika's life. Just as he wished she could share in his adventure, he wanted to share in hers.

     "Primo said they would be here by noon," Sebastianus murmured as they neared the Gate of Heavenly Harmony, which led to the crowded southern quarter of the city. He looked up at the sun. It was now midday.

     Timonides sensed his master's growing anxiousness and wished there was something he could do to alleviate it. He cast Sebastianus's horoscope twice a day, but nowhere could he read when their day of departure would be, or the manner of that departure. Wondering if perhaps, because they were in China, they should employ the methods of Chinese astrology, Timonides had studied the heavens with palace astrologers, but had ultimately not been able to master the science as it was so different from that of Greece and Rome.

     In Chinese astrology, there were twelve star signs, each a different animal that ruled its own year and that supposedly demonstrated the characteristics of the person born in that year. There were also animal signs assigned to each month (called inner animals) and then to hours of the day (called secret animals). And so while a person might appear to be an Ox because he was born in the year of the Ox, he might also be a Bear internally and a Dragon secretively. This made for over eight thousand combinations, each a different personality with a different horoscope.

     It made Timonides's head spin. He went back to his twelve zodiacal signs, his charts, and his protractor. But no predictions were forthcoming and he was beginning to wonder if possibly the power of the gods of Greece and Rome did not reach this far.

     He returned to watching Nestor, a giant among the citizens of Luoyang, as he wandered into the corner of the spice market, where food vendors were cooking over open fires. Nestor had not found eastern cooking a challenge, quickly taking to soybeans, native to China, and other such culinary oddities as cucumbers, ginger, and anise. Nestor had even learned a new way of cooking: because China did not have big forests, cooking fuel was always hard to find and so the Chinese had learned to cut up their food into tiny pieces so that it would fry quickly when stirred over a small fire.

     Typical of the astrologer's simple-minded son, Nestor had already mastered such exotic dishes as rice fried with scallions; stewed crab and crispy eel; boiled turtle with ham; lotus seeds in honey. His masterpiece was deep-fried chicken feet with black bean sauce. It made Timonides salivate just to think of them.

     But Timonides frowned now as he watched his son taste a pinch of pepper at a spice seller's stall. Nestor's craft had slipped of late. Too much salt, not enough oil. Delicacies such as cow's eyes and sheep's testicles overcooked and ruined. Did the boy, in his strange way of thinking that was both simple and complex, sense that they were trying to get out of Luoyang?

     Primo finally appeared in the crowd, looking cross and anxious. And he was alone. When he neared his two friends, he glanced over his shoulder before saying quietly to Sebastianus, "Bold Dragon is dead. His headless corpse was found floating in the river."

     "Ming discovered our plan."

     Sebastianus immediately thought of Little Sparrow, who had never come back to his bed after the night of Bold Dragon's visit. He had inquired about her, but had been met with blank responses, as if she did not exist. He was not in love with her. His feelings for her were always of the moment. While his body was with the girl from a northern province of China, his heart was always with Ulrika. But still, her absence had made him wonder.

     And he wondered now if her disappearance at the same time Bold Dragon was killed was no coincidence. Sebastianus had been warned about being kind to the pleasure-girls. They could be grasping and jealous, the eunuchs had cautioned. They wove intrigue among themselves, during their long days of boredom, with each one striving to rise in rank above the others. Had Little Sparrow overheard his secret conversation with Primo and Bold Dragon, and then reported it to someone on the emperor's staff? She would have been richly rewarded, he decided, for warning the emperor of their plan to escape.

     Sebastianus hoped that whatever Little Sparrow's reward for her treachery, she was enjoying it. Because now it was going to be impossible to get out of Luoyang.

     "Master," Timonides wailed, "tell the emperor what he wants to know."

     "You cannot do that," Primo hissed. "To divulge Rome's military extent, strengths, and weaknesses would be treason."

     "And if we never leave here?" the astrologer snapped. "Caesar would understand."

     "Or send us to the arena."

     "Look!" Sebastianus said, pointing. They saw Noble Heron riding toward them in his familiar red and gold carrying chair.

     The high official stepped to the ground. "Esteemed guest," he said to Sebastianus with an elegant bow. "It is my humble honor to inform you that the Lord of Ten Thousand Years intends to make a journey around the countryside to introduce his new empress to his vassal peoples."

     A few weeks prior, Ming had been persuaded by his mother the dowager empress to elevate his consort, Ma, to the lofty position of empress. Luoyang had exploded with celebrations. Ma was popular with the courtiers, and the citizens of Luoyang loved what they had heard about her. Sebastianus himself admired the young lady, who was humble and solemn for one so elevated. The other imperial consorts and princesses were all surprised at how thrifty she was, as Ma often wore less expensive silk, and without elaborate designs. Emperor Ming consulted her often on important matters of state.

     Noble Heron continued, "The Lord of Ten Thousand Years wishes to show his love and respect for his empress in front of his subjugated peoples, and to allow them the privilege and honor of paying homage to her. As part of the continued celebrations marking her crowning as empress," he said, nodding toward the many colorful paper lanterns that still decorated the market square after weeks of festivities, "the entire royal court will set out upon a journey to visit the countryside, and the Lord of Heaven wishes to invite his guests from Li-chien to join the happy journey."

     Sebastianus and Primo exchanged a glance, each thinking that the festive journey most likely had more to do with parading the powerful presence of the Han Family and to gather intelligence on possible rebellions. It was well known that North Xiongnu continued to be a constant threat to both Han and her ally South Xiongnu. Although Emperor Ming engaged in a variety of military and economic tactics to try to maintain peace with North Xiongnu, the peace was shaky. A show of might was called for.

     As they watched Noble Heron ride away, Sebastianus said excitedly to his two companions, "My friends, I believe this is the opportunity we have been praying for."

T
HE FIERCE HORSEMEN LINED
up to face one another on the grassy plain, a hundred to each side, their husky mounts—the famous steppe horses with dense fur coats and thick skins, and known for their endurance—spirited and eager for the fray. The riders wore tall felt hats, leather trousers, and sheep's wool tunics. They called themselves Tazhkin and considered themselves to be the hardiest people alive because their ancestors came from a harsh realm at the southern edge of the Gobi Desert. It was said that, in combat, the screams of these warriors so curdled the blood of the enemy that they dropped dead before a single dagger was thrown.

     And yet, somehow, Emperor Ming's father, the great Guangwu, had managed to defeat the Tazhkin with his forces and turn them into allies of the Chinese empire.

     A great crowd stood along one length of the plain, men and women of the Tazhkin, but Chinese, too, from Ming's enormous retinue. The emperor himself was not in view, but rather was ensconced within his heavily
guarded pavilion, as it was discovered that his wife was pregnant, and her many advisors cautioned that for her to look upon combat would instill a violent nature in her child.

     But it was not truly a battle that was about to take place, it was a game. They called it "polo" and it was played by two teams of a hundred horsemen each, and consisted of swinging long sticks at a leather ball as the riders galloped at reckless speeds across the grassy plain.

     Sebastianus stood with his companions in the boisterous crowd, waiting for the game to begin. He knew now why they had been invited along on this inspection tour—so that Emperor Ming could further demonstrate his power by parading his "guests" to his subjugated peoples, men from fabled Li-chien who served a powerful ruler—but not as powerful as the Lord of Ten Thousand Years.

     In every province, village, and territory they visited, Sebastianus had observed the emperor with his advisors sitting beneath a magnificent red and gold canopy, surrounded by servants and guards, conferring quietly. Sebastianus listened at campfires as he made the acquaintance of strangers. He told Primo to talk with local soldiers. If an uprising were fomenting against Emperor Ming, proud warrior clans chafing under the yoke of the Celestial Ruler, Sebastianus wanted to know. An outbreak of war would be their opportunity to escape.

     When Sebastianus had once considered simply asking the emperor's permission to go home, Noble Heron had warned him that such a request would be a great insult to the Heavenly Lord, as it would tell the world that the emperor's hospitality was lacking, for why else would guests wish to leave? In order to save face, the Lord of Ten Thousand Years would have to counteract by increasing his hospitality to the foreign guests by making their stay in Luoyang even more luxurious. And they would still be prisoners.

     And now the tour was over, tomorrow they were to return to Luoyang. Both Sebastianus and Emperor Ming knew that the Romans' usefulness had come to an end. Both were weary of the novelty of this first meeting between east and west. Sebastianus suspected that Ming would be pleased for them to leave, to return to Caesar and inform him of the might and power of Emperor
Ming. However, to allow the Romans leave would cause Ming to lose face. To allow them even an avenue of escape, no matter how cleverly staged, would be perceived as a weakness of the emperor's security guard.

     And so they were at a stalemate, and Sebastianus was at a loss to find a solution.

     At his side, standing in disgruntled silence, Timonides watched the polo match with a jaundiced eye. An idiotic way to pass the time, he thought as he marveled at the fever-pitch frenzy of the spectators who screamed and jumped up and down and cursed and cheered. Chariot races were so much more civilized. Timonides could not wait to get back to his own world. He was looking forward to the fame they were certain to enjoy in Rome. There would most likely be a triumphal parade in their honor, and feasting that would go on for days. Rice and noodles were all well and good, but he missed sinking his teeth into a loaf of good hot bread dipped in olive oil.

     Nestor exploded with laughter and clapped his hands. It made the old Greek's heart expand with love to see his son enjoying himself so. He knew that Nestor did not grasp what he was watching, that there were points to be won and prizes to be had. The boy just liked watching the horses thundering back and forth amid the shouts of the riders. And after all it wasn't necessary for Nestor to understand the game because Timonides knew that his son's simple mind was now a repository of countless recipes for exotic dishes that were going to make him very popular in Rome.

     We will open an eating house near the Forum and people will come from miles around for a taste of fabled China. Senators will sit at the tables of Timonides the Greek. Perhaps even the Emperor himself ...