‘What have you in mind, Nick?’
‘It is better that you don’t know. Then you can keep your hands clean.’
Lin settled back on his couch, looking somewhat out of sorts, and I took charge of the meeting. I looked over at Tadeusz, who had been very quiet during my exchanges with Lin.
‘What about you, Tadeusz. Did you learn anything in the marketplace?’
Tadeusz Pyka tugged at his beard, and seemed not sure where to begin. Finally he put into words what he had learned by chatting to the tradesmen he had met.
‘I wandered around a few of those big squares we came through when we arrived. I reckoned that one of them had to accommodate workshops. I found the one for doctors and astrologers first. They teach reading and writing there too, you know. I saw a local magistrate settling an argument between two doctors who, from what I could tell, were disputing the efficacy of something called dang gui.’
Lin nodded his head.
‘Yes. It’s also called female ginseng, and I believe it’s used for all sorts of women’s complaints.’
‘The argument seemed to be about whether it should be boiled or steeped in wine.’
Gurbesu laughed.
‘I would prefer the last method.’
‘The magistrate resolved the matter, but by then the client — an older woman — had walked away. So neither doctor gained from arguing. Anyway, the next square I came to was the craft square. They say there were twelve guilds represented, and each workshop employed up to forty men. It was certainly a busy and bustling square, and I could see some men had got quite wealthy from the trade. I went to the silversmiths’ quarter — you can always find it by the sound.’
I knew what he meant. The tap-tap of small hammers on silver plates is a distinctive noise, like the sound of tiny bells.
‘They were all Chinee, and reluctant to talk at first. But when I spoke about their techniques, and showed them that I was one of their guild, some of them spoke freely. Working in the trade, they knew some Turkish and we got on fine. They wanted to know about Xanadu and Tatu, and what it was like working for the Great Khan. I confess that, as I looked around at all the industry of these men, I was suddenly missing my own workshop and my tools.’
Pyka looked fondly off into the distance, no doubt thinking of a time when he was a silversmith in Breslau and had a wife and children. I had never known him so homesick — it was over twenty-five years since the Mongols had swept through his town like avenging angels. I had thought he was over the tragedy. He suddenly focused on me and looked crestfallen.
‘Sorry.’
I patted him on the shoulder encouragingly. I just prayed he wasn’t going to cry on mine. I was not good with women and emotions, but of necessity coped — with other men and emotions I was hopeless. He drew a breath, however, and carried on.
‘When I got a chance I asked them about Pianfu, and how the Mongols had affected trade. They were a mixed bunch, and some said things had picked up recently, that they were far enough away from the capital not to be bothered too much with the bureaucracy. Others quietly complained that the lord of the region wanted the finest work but didn’t want to pay for it. But they wouldn’t raise their voices in complaint too loud in case Taitemir got to hear. But one old man said bitterly that local officials collaborated too much with the Mongols. He mentioned the prefect specifically, and the case of Jianxu. There were some mutterings, but I believe everyone thought the case badly handled and the judgement harsh. Apparently Old Geng Biao, the murdered man, did lots of business with Taitemir’s people. And it is said they owed him money, leaving Old Geng short of funds.’
My ears pricked up at this revelation.
‘Did they owe enough for them to want him dead?’
Tadeusz pulled a face, though only one side responded. The burned left side of his face was tight and expressionless. It gave him a lopsided look, but he was used to the stares of others by now.
‘I am not so sure of that. The Mongols don’t care whether they pay for the goods they receive or not. Why should they then go out of their way to kill one of the many to whom they owe money?’
In a way I was relieved that Pyka thought that way. I was reluctant to investigate Taitemir and his cronies too closely. But the time might come when we had to. I stored Pyka’s nugget of information in my brain, and reached for my cup of wine. Friar Alberoni coughed gently. I had not asked him for a contribution to our debate because I did not think that he had anything to offer. But maybe he had found out something.
‘Friar, is there something you wish to add?’
Alberoni studied the ground at his feet closely, and pursed his lips.
‘Not exactly. But there is a matter I need to raise with you. I feel I am superfluous to your investigations here.’ Before I could protest, he raised a hand. ‘It is true. And I have deceived you somewhat concerning my intentions.’
The rest of the people in the room stirred and murmured half-suppressed questions of their own. Alberoni looked around, a pleading look on his face.
‘I know what you all think of my quest here in the East…’
His pause was enough for me to realize what he was about to say. He had come to Kubilai’s empire in order to find Prester John, the supposed Christian monarch from the East, who was to save Western Christianity. As I mentioned before, he had met a man who fitted the bill, only to lose him soon after. Clearly, he was still hoping to find him again. I nodded sagely.
‘Prester John.’
‘Yes. He is not a myth, as you imagine. We all saw him in Xanadu, a prisoner of Kubilai’s family.’
‘We saw an old man. That is all.’
I was unconvinced of the man’s identity, and looked around at the others for support. Lin’s face was impassive, and Gurbesu and Pyka looked away, not wishing to disappoint the friar. Alberoni stared feverishly into my eyes, and I gave up.
‘Very well. You think you can still find him. But what made you come with us, then?’
A big smile wreathed the friar’s face.
‘Two days travel west of here is a grand castle named Caichu, built by a man called the Golden King. He was vassal to Prester John, and once rebelled against him only to be humbled. And I have heard that twenty miles west of the castle is the river Hwang-Ho, that you called Kara-Moran, Niccolo. That river flows from the lands of Prester John.’ He held the thumb and forefinger of one hand close together. ‘I am that close to finding him again.’
I could not deny the friar his quest. He was going to the castle whatever I would say to him. But I offered him a warning, nevertheless.
‘You need protection, Alberoni. You will be close to where Kubilai’s forces are fighting those in the south.’
‘No. I need no one — I have God’s protection.’ He touched my arm. ‘I shall be back in a week. Two at the most. You will have solved this matter by then, and we will rejoice at our joint good fortunes together.’
I shook his hand, thinking how much I would regret his departure. We were like chalk and cheese, he and I. But he was my last connection with Venice, and Caterina Dolfin. I would miss him. After making his brief farewells with the others, the friar left to pack his bags, and make the preparations for his journey. I drank deep of the Chinee wine.
TEN
Kubilai has created a magical thing. As a trader, I cannot believe the audacity of the concept. It is as if he has mastered the art of alchemy. But it is a sort of reverse alchemy, because he does not convert base metal into gold. Instead, he changes gold and silver, pearls and precious stones, into paper. This paper is made from mulberry bark, which is crushed and pounded flat. Then it’s cut into oblong sheets which are signed on by high officials of the Khan’s court, and then the impression of the Khan’s seal is impressed on the paper. Different types and sizes of paper are worth different amounts, and people are happy to exchange the paper as though it is real gold or silver. The magical part, from my point of view, is that though the Khan usually exchanges merchants’ precious goods for this paper, he can print as much paper money as he likes. Of course, if someone else forges the paper money, he would expect to be executed. Believe me, I have thought of that fraud myself.