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     Finally the dowager said, "By telling me this secret, you have brought dishonor upon your family."

     Little Sparrow fell to her knees and prostrated herself. "But I had thought Your Sublime Majesty would be pleased to learn of the trickery, and place guards around the foreigners!" Keeping them here. Keeping my Heroic Tiger here forever.

     "Foolish child, to assume that my son would be so easily duped. Foolish child, for forgetting one of the rules of your calling, that it is forbidden to speak of matters that an honored guest discusses in the bedroom. You will go home to your family. You will tell your father that his name will no longer be spoken in the emperor's court."

     "But ... he will put me to death!"

     "As is a father's right."

     A quick signal from the empress, and guards stepped in to drag Little Sparrow away. She did not plead for mercy. She kept her dignity to the last, even in the final moment as she understood the cruel irony of what she had just done: by revealing Heroic Tiger's secret plan to escape so that he could not leave, she had forfeited her own life.

32

THIS IS DANGEROUS BUSINESS, MASTER," Timonides said as they scanned the busy marketplace for Bold Dragon. As he spoke, Timonides kept an eye on Nestor, who still had to be reminded at age thirty-five that goods offered in merchants' stalls were not there simply for the taking. "The emperor has eyes and ears everywhere. Ming knows we want to leave and that we will be searching for any possible avenue of escape."

     "And if we don't find that avenue, my friend," Sebastianus replied as he watched the Gate of Heavenly Harmony for Primo and Bold Dragon, "we will truly be here for the rest of our lives." After nine months of enjoying the emperor's hospitality, generous and lavish though it was, Sebastianus was anxious to be heading home. But Ming seemed determined to keep the westerners prisoner.

     Timonides was also eager to start for home. While he found this exotic land and culture forever delightful and challenging, and he did not truly mind being a "permanent guest," he was worried about his son.

     As he kept an eye on Nestor's progress among the merchant stalls, Timonides saw three women stumbling about the marketplace, their sad cries for food and mercy making his stomach churn. They were yoked together at the neck, their three heads rising from a wooden plank upon which their crimes had been listed. He could not read Chinese, but imagined they had either disobeyed their husbands or spread malicious gossip about their neighbors. Women's crimes were not as vicious as men's, but the punishments were brutal nonetheless.

     He turned away and once again his eyes went to Nestor, who was watching a pair of jugglers. Timonides was worried because his son had been acting strangely of late, exhibiting an anxiety and anxiousness uncharacteristic of the otherwise placid and contented Nestor. He was acting almost as if he knew they were being held prisoner in this city. Timonides understood his son's simple mind, that he had no true concept of time and distance. To Nestor, the city of Antioch lay just on the other side of the Mang Mountains, and they had left only yesterday. Thus, the years and miles that would make a sound-minded man grow anxious about going home would not normally trouble Nestor.

     So what was causing this strange new anxiousness?

     And where was Bold Dragon, the man whom they were trusting to help them escape?

     Sebastianus and his companions had not been allowed outside Luoyang since the day of their arrival. It was a show of power, of course. The emperor had proudly captured the Roman Caesar's ambassador in the same way soldiers on a battlefield capture the enemy's flags. Ming would have sent word of such, along with China's precious silk brocade, lacquerware, and porcelain, westward on trade routes, to boast that he was the benevolent host to Rome's ambassadors, in the hope that the message would ultimately reach that other emperor, the one called Caesar.

     Of course, Timonides thought philosophically, there was a great chance the news would not reach Nero at all. And if it did, there was nothing he could do to rescue them. But it wasn't as if their captivity was unpleasant. Timonides had to concede that detainment in the capital city was surprisingly comfortable, in fact luxurious. The villa he shared with his son, Sebastianus, and Primo was spacious with many servants. Their living quarters looked out upon a garden called the Courtyard of the Pure Heart, where trickling fountains delighted the eye, lily pads floated on the pond's tranquil surface, tame egrets waded in the shallows, and songbirds in airy cages filled the air with trilling music. The visitors from the west enjoyed plentiful delicious food and delightful pastimes that included discreet young ladies, called Social Flowers, at night.

     They rarely saw any other women in the imperial compound, as the sexes were separated. But they sometimes heard, during warm evenings filled with the scent of jasmine, voices on the other side of the Gate of Whispering Bamboos, feminine chatter and laughter and the clatter of mah-jongg tiles—the emperor's mother, sisters, nieces, aunts, and concubines, along with hundreds of female servants and eunuchs, whiling away their hours and lives in idle leisure.

     A paradise on earth, Timonides thought. But it was not Rome. And as Sebastianus and Timonides and Primo had explored every inch of this city, which was two miles long and one mile wide, there was nothing left that they did not know of it—from the filthy crowding of the southern poor quarters where families were crammed in hovels and barely earned a subsistence living, to the villas of the rich in the north bordering the Imperial Palace, whose lives were filled with grace and ease.

     Timonides knew that their caravan and all its goods had been confiscated by the emperor. But Sebastianus could not complain. He himself had declared them to be gifts for Ming. The slaves and servants, even Primo's fighting men, were all detained in Luoyang, in quarters suitable to their respective social status. The only ones who were thrilled with the captivity were the Buddhist missionaries who were spending many hours with the emperor, teaching him the life and philosophy of their founder, the Enlightened One.

     "Master," Timonides said now for the hundredth time, "why not give the emperor what he wants? If you don't want to tell him where military garrisons are located, or vital geography, then invent them. Draw him a fanciful map of the Roman empire. He would never know!"

     Whenever Sebastianus was summoned to the presence of the emperor, Ming would request politely that his honored guest draw a map of the Roman empire, indicating military installations, troop movements, war strategies. And each time Sebastianus would aver his ignorance on the subject—which was only partially true. Timonides knew they would be kept in Luoyang until the day they died if Sebastianus did not give the sovereign what he wanted.

     "Because, Timonides my old friend, as I have already explained to you, Ming is putting me to a test. He is judging my integrity and character. Whether I draw him a true military map of the empire or a false one, either way it will reveal a lack of character on my part, for the former would mean a betrayal of my sovereign, the latter would mean I am being deceitful. Ming knows it can only be one or the other. And once I lose the emperor's respect, then we are no longer his guests, I am no longer an ambassador of Rome, and we go home in disgrace, having failed utterly at our mission."