"We're comfortable the way we are," Primo growled, getting hungry and impatient. "What's wrong with the way we're dressed?"
Sebastianus recalled the people they had seen in the streets, the peasants on the farms, and the servants and attendants within these walls. Then he considered Noble Heron's appearance and it came to him: even though it was a warm spring day, only a person's hands and face were exposed. And in the case of such a high official as Noble Heron, even the hands were hidden.
The tunics worn by Sebastianus and his three friends had short sleeves, leaving arms exposed, with hems that reached only the knees, leaving much leg exposed. "We mean no offense, Noble Heron, but we are here as citizens of Rome and representatives of our own emperor. If there is to be a first meeting of our two worlds, and a cultural exchange that has never before been experienced by either of our peoples, then it would be dishonest of us to appear before your emperor as anything other than our true selves."
The white-haired official digested this piece of logical reasoning and, finding no argument, moved on to the complex issue of courtly protocol.
While the stomachs of Timonides and Primo growled and gurgled, and Nestor wondered if they would be eating noodles, Sebastianus listened politely to the many rules of etiquette and assured the man that he and his friends would follow them as best they could. But when Noble Heron arrived at the subject of a ritual called kowtow, Sebastianus balked.
To demonstrate, Noble Heron spoke sharply to one of the household servants who, before the astonished eyes of the foreign visitors, dropped to his knees, placed his hands on the floor, and touched his forehead to the ground. The servant jumped up and repeated the gesture eight more times in quick succession.
Noble Heron said with a smile, "That is how you and your friends will show respect to the Lord of Heaven."
"Great Zeus," Timonides murmured, and Primo shouted, "I will not scrape the floor and lift my arse for any uncivilized barbarian, king or no!"
The first translator, a citizen of Soochow who was fluent in Kashmiri, went pale and was too afraid to pass the insult to the second translator, who already gathered from the Roman's tone that his words were disrespectful and dangerous.
Sebastianus explained to Noble Heron, "We understand your desire for us to show proper respect to your emperor. And we intend to do just that. But as citizens of Rome and agents of our own emperor, it would be treasonous for us to kowtow to your king, for that would mean our emperor is a subject of your sovereign. I am certain that, were the situation reversed, Emperor Ming would not want his agents kowtowing to the monarch of another land."
"This is true," Noble Heron said, but his wispy white beard quivered. "Nonetheless, any breach of protocol means instant death and, as miserable and unworthy as my poor head is, I am not yet ready to part with it."
Sebastianus smiled. "Do not worry, my esteemed friend. We are Romans and therefore men of reason. We are amenable to compromise."
They passed through many gates and doors, around many screens and across vast courtyards before they were finally led up the hundred steps to the imperial throne room. Sebastianus and his three friends, followed by the translators, walked along a polished floor between rows of red-lacquered columns, between which silent people stood in flowing silk robes, hands hidden in sleeves, watching the procession with keen eyes. Both men and women were present, the men wearing their long hair tied up in a knot beneath black silk caps, the women bearing intricate coiffures decorated with pearls and tassels. They watched in hushed curiosity as the strangely clad visitors walked sedately behind Noble Heron.
When they neared the dais upon which the royal couple sat, young women in scarlet and blue robes held unfolded fans to their faces and whispered, their almond eyes fixed upon Sebastianus and his short, bronze-colored hair.
A gong was rung, priests in robes and elaborate headdresses appeared with censers giving off pungent smoke, and they walked in circles while the gong sounded and an unseen crier called out spells and the names of gods. While the cleansing and sanctifying ritual was conducted, Sebastianus frankly studied the man he had come thousands of miles to see.
The emperor and consort were as still as statues as they sat upon their elaborate rosewood thrones, their robes made of such a dazzling yellow silk that they looked like a twin sunrise. Ming wore a curious crown made of a stiff black board with a beaded fringe hanging on front and back, his long hair drawn up into an elaborate coiffure under the crown. Ma, young and pretty, with a heavily painted face, wore her hair in such an elaborate fashion, with jade pins and ebony sticks supporting intricate ornaments and jewelry, that her slender neck looked as if it could barely support such a weight. Like their courtiers and statesmen and attending nobles, the imperial pair exposed no part of their bodies except for their faces, from the slippered feet on golden footstools, to the voluminous silk sleeves hiding their hands, and the bright red, rolled collars beneath their jaws.
At the side of Consort Ma stood a group of graceful young ladies, elegantly coiffed and draped in flowing silk. They appeared to guard a bamboo screen, behind which Sebastianus had learned from Noble Heron that the emperor's mother, Dowager Empress Yin, would be seated, unseen yet seeing.
When Noble Heron indicated where Sebastianus and his companions were to stop, the translator from Soochow and his colleague from Kashmir immediately fell to the floor to prostrate themselves before the sovereign. The man who spoke Persian and Latin, a native of Pisa, remained standing.
Sebastianus murmured to Timonides and Primo, "Just follow my lead." Through his translators he said to Ming, "Your Noble and Exalted Majesty, we come in peace and in the name of the Nero Caesar, Emperor of Rome. According to the laws and customs of my country, all citizens of Rome are equal, with no man above another, not even our emperor, although we do address him as First Citizen. We do not kowtow to our Caesar, we do not even bow to him, but stand before him as equals. But my friends and I wish no disrespect nor offense, and so we are honored to bow to Your Majesty as we would to no other."
Sebastianus bent slightly from the waist and gave a curt nod. Timonides and Primo did likewise, while Nestor merely giggled, and when they straightened, a deathly silence hung over the court.
The Lord of Ten Thousand Years remained unmoving on his throne, his face impassive, with not a ripple in the many layers of silk and satin and embroidery that impressively covered his person. No one moved. Not a breath was heard.
Emperor Ming blinked. His voice was young and sharp and full of command when he finally spoke, "You bring trade goods to Luoyang. Are you a merchant?"
Although the question was abrupt and somewhat rude, Sebastianus had been expecting it. Noble Heron had briefed him on Chinese social hierarchy, which began with the royal family at the top, followed by the intellectual-scholars called mandarins, after whom came the highly respected farmer, since being a peasant working the land was considered the most honorable way to make a living. Merchants were on the lowest rung of the social ladder and greatly despised, in the Chinese thinking that it was dishonorable to make money off other people. And so it would be dishonorable for such a man to dare to approach the Lord of Ten Thousand Years.