Temujin, though he despised townsmen, and all the things of which the townsmen were the symbols, was nevertheless slightly embarrassed by the hugeness of the city and the elegant people he passed. All at once he realized what he must look like in their eyes, with his rough brown coat and fox-skin cap and naked saber. So he glared fiercely ahead, and affected to despise them, rearing his horse, and roaring angrily when some silk-curtained litter suddenly appeared from around some corner and confronted him. Once an especially large entourage encountered him, attended by vast eunuchs. The scarlet curtains, embroidered with golden crescents, were drawn about the litter. Before the litter, and ahead of the eunuchs were two slight youths in scarlet silk robes, carrying golden bells, which they rung imperiously. They advanced with arrogant insolence, and Temujin involuntarily drew aside, motioning to his followers to do likewise. When the litter was abreast of him, the curtains were discreetly parted, and the gay delicate face of a lady peered forth, all white skin and black eyes and black, elaborately dressed hair. The cloudy veil across her face did not conceal her features, nor the provocative smile and glance she directed upward at the young Mongol. He looked down at her, and could not help returning the smile, which was an ardent tribute to himself. He watched the litter out of sight, well pleased with himself, and idly speculating about the lady, whom he had readily seen would not be unapproachable.
He was in high good humor when he arrived at the palace gates. Some prescience had already assured him that he had not seen the last of the delicate lady. He had some idea that she would see to this, herself.
He and his companions were received with some astonishment by the attendants, who apparently had not been prepared for so large a company. He was informed, by a haughty and supercilious steward, that he, and possibly his noyon, Chepe Noyon and Kasar, would be housed in special apartments in the palace, already prepared for them. But the warriors would be quartered out in near-by dwellings, which were waiting to receive them. As he gave this information, in high languid accents, the steward kept wrinkling his exquisite nose and fingering the golden chain on his breast.
Temujin looked about him. He was standing in a large court paved with blocks of white polished stone, formally bordered with grass and flowers and palm trees, and sparkling with drops of water from numerous fountains. Here the air was balmier than the desert air, and scented with a thousand delicious odors. Beyond the court, in its luxurious gardens, was the palace itself, white and shining and splendid. Temujin was aghast at all this luxury and beauty, but also enormously excited. He swung down from his horse, and threw the reins in the steward’s face. A servant deftly caught them. The steward backed away, openly touching his nose with a white finger. Chepe Noyon smiled, but Kasar was enraged. When he got down from his horse, his hand was trembling on the hilt of his saber.
The steward, disdainfully walking ahead, led them through a white wall into the purlieus of the palace. They followed him through long white corridors, whose arched doorways were discreetly filled with blue or scarlet or yellow curtains, embroidered grotesquely with crosses and the Moslem crescent and stars. This intimacy, delightful and gay, of the symbols of two hating religions, was lost on Temujin. But it was not lost on the more sophisticated Chepe Noyon, who found it intriguing. Some archways were open, and revealed glimpses of brilliant green gardens and blazing blue pools of water, and hot noonday sky. From behind the curtained doorways came the soft laughter and voices of women, and snatches of light dancing music of flute and stringed instruments. Sometimes the raucous shrieking of parrots could be heard, as some girl teased them. Here the air was cool and dim and sparkling with reflections. The smooth white floor bore scattered crimson and flowered Persian and Turkish rugs upon it. Everywhere were the intoxicating fragrances of flowers and exotic scents, and the languorous warmness of spices, and everywhere, even through the noonday quiet, could be heard the murmur of the comfortable palace life, and the invisible coming and going of a multitude of servants. And at every few feet, enormous eunuchs, fat and naked to the waist, and turbaned, and holding bare blades in their hands, stood like colored statues, on guard. Each was smooth of cheek, wore golden rings in his ears, and broad golden bands on his upper arms, and jewelled sandals on his feet. The dim yet sparkling light flashed on wet belly and smooth hairless chest and gemmed belt, and lavishly embroidered silken trousers. Their eyes, fixed yet remote, did not seem to see Temujin and his companions, yet they had the impression of unclean and avaricious watchfulness.
Finally, the voices of the women were left behind. The steward paused disdainfully by a large archway, and held aside the thick silken curtains with gilt fringes. Temujin and his companions found themselves in a beautiful cool apartment, all white walls and white floor and silken couches and Chinese tables. Crimson panels of embroidered silk appeared at intervals on the walls, and the floor was covered with brilliantly colored little rugs. The far archways opened on the gardens, glittering and green in the sunlight. Motionless, with arms folded on their breasts, three servants, clad in blue and scarlet, waited to serve the guests.
With a shout of pleasure, Temujin pulled off his cap and tossed it onto a table. He loosened his belt, with a sigh of relief. He flung himself boisterously on a soft couch, and threw out his legs in their barbarous deerskin boots. Chepe Noyon sat down on another couch, and investigated the contents of a silver box of sweetmeats. Kasar gingerly seated himself on a pile of cushions. The servants began to bring in enamelled bowls of fruit, meat and delicate white bread, and basins of water, and fine white towels. In the water, subtly scented, floated rose petals. Crystal and silver decanters of wine were placed on the tables.
Temujin sat up and scratched his head. He laved his hands and wiped them on a towel. He pursed his lips disdainfully.
“What luxury!” he exclaimed, in a loud, hectoring voice. “No wonder these townsmen are soft!”
Chepe Noyon raised his eyebrows. He knew that Temujin was only seeking to impress the servants, with their downcast eyes and pale, inscrutable expressions. The servants did not show by any look or gesture that they were impressed. Only their nostrils quivered. As for Kasar, he was wretched. He scowled at a servant who offered him a bowl of water, and abruptly waved him away. But Chepe Noyon daintily washed his hands, and daintily drank wine. The dimples came and went in his gay face.
“I was born for this,” he remarked, holding a crystal goblet for a servant to fill. “I am hoping, most ardently, that thou wilt be able to secure such as this for all of us, lord.”
Temujin shouted contemptuously. “I have never cared for effete luxury,” he said. Chepe Noyon glanced at him quizzically. And then he knew that Temujin spoke the truth, however he was impressed by his surroundings.
Temujin went on: “Nay, I have never cared for it. Nor desired it. I prefer the wind and the desert. There, one is not a eunuch, either in body or spirit. But, I promise thee, I shall get all this for you, if it is desired.” He laughed. “But I cannot understand the desire.”
Chepe Noyon regarded him placidly. “I do desire it. I prefer a soft couch, to one of earth and horsehair. I prefer this good spiced wine, to kumiss. My stomach doth respond gratefully to this sweet white bread, instead of boiled millet and crusts. Moreover, my body yeameth for silk, instead of harsh wool. Too, I think I should prefer a scented and anointed woman to one of our rough-skinned desert wenches. Townswomen are less direct in love, it is said, but much more subtle.”
Temujin shrugged. “If I did not know thee so well, Chepe Noyon, I would say thou art no soldier.”
Chepe Noyon laughed. “I do not think a man is less a soldier if he doth prefer fragrances to stenches, lord. Nor is he less skilled in killing, if, after battle, he doth delight in sweet music and the soft hands of a dainty woman, and the sleek comfort of a silk couch.”
Kasar grunted angrily, out of his misery. “I prefer the open wind, and the desert moon, and the saddle, always.”
Temujin, who had begun to walk about like a lithe f
eline animal, stopped beside his brother, and clapped his hand roughly on his shoulder. “Spoken like a true soldier, Kasar, and not like a libertine, such as our Chepe Noyon!” And he laughed boisterously.
He lay down again on a couch, sprawling, and eating prodigiously. On the high white ceiling the trembling shadows of the trees outside were reflected. Music was borne on the soft wind, and the faint far laughter of women. The servants noiselessly ministered to the guests. The dim mutter of palace life was all about them, like the murmur of contented bees.
The curtains parted and a eunuch entered, salaaming. He addressed himself to Temujin, who was drinking noisily. “The lord Taliph, son of the khan, doth desire the presence of the noble lord, Temujin, whenever he hath sufficiently refreshed himself.”
Temujin sat up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and disdaining the towel distressedly offered him by one of the servants. “Hah!” he said. He stood up, shaking himself, fastening his loosened belt. He smoothed his fiery red hair with his palms. Then he looked at Chepe Noyon, luxuriously lounging on his couch, and laughed.
“Guzzle, Chepe Noyon, and sleep. And thou, too, Kasar. I go to pay my respects.”
Kasar eagerly scrambled to his feet, scowling. “I will go with thee, lord, to protect thee. One never knows about these townsmen.”
But Temujin shook his head. “Nay, stay thou with Chepe Noyon, and guard him, lest he go exploring among the women, and so violate the hospitality of the khan. Nay, Kasar, I do mean this. Protest not.”
Chapter 15
He followed the scornful eunuch out of the apartments, leaving Kasar muttering and scowling behind him. He followed him down winding corridors, and then up an immense white staircase to the upper floor. The eunuch stopped at an archway, and held aside the curtains.
Temujin entered an elegant and even more luxurious apartment than that assigned to him. Here Chinese and Persian and Turkish art treasures crowded the great sparkling rooms. Vases, silver lamps, carved tables, statuettes, painted silken panels, fringed rugs, couches, columns, chests and silver mirrors, encountered the eye in bewildering profusion. In the center of the room was a fountain made in the form of a jewelled green dragon, out of whose mouth poured scented water. In the marble-bordered pool, in which the dragon crouched, white water lilies floated, like alabaster flowers with golden hearts. The walls were covered with exquisite Persian tiles, brilliantly colored and decadently designed, with an intricacy of line and form. On a marble pedestal stood a rearing bronze horse of ancient Persian artistry, and on other pedestals stood ceramic statuettes of old Persian kings, exquisitely colored and glazed. Though at first glance there was a redundancy of color and form and complexity of design, in painting, tile, curtain and carpet, a bewildering and crowded array of ceramic, bronze, ivory and silver, the whole effect was charming in its Persian, corrupt air and elegance. The room appeared to be formed of jewels, so brilliant and incisive were the many colors, so lovely the tints of enamel, so lustrous the gleam of tile and rug. The draped curtains at the end of the apartment were drawn theatrically, in order to bring in the hues of garden and sky and pool outside. On one tabouret stood a huge smiling Buddha of pink jade, from whose lips issued a slow coiling smoke of incense.
Temujin blinked at all this brilliance and liveliness of color, which gleamed and glittered and sparkled on his eye. And then he saw that two people awaited him, reclining on a wide silken divan, one a young man of great elegance, and with a dark, long, subtle face, and the other a veiled lady. Instantly, Temujin recognized the lady. It was the provocative lady of the scarlet litter. He forgot the gentleman at once, and smiling, concentrated on the woman, who modestly bent her head and drew her transparent veil more discreetly across her features. She made a motion as though to rise and flee, but the young man negligently laid his hand on her bare white shoulder, and she subsided beside him. He regarded Temujin with amiable languor, and waved his hand in the direction of another divan near by.
“Greetings, my lord,” he said, in a low dulcet voice, faintly edged with irony. “It doth give me intense pleasure to welcome thee to the abode of my father, the khan, who doth beg to be excused for an hour or so. He is an old man, and is over-fatigued after a long audience with the envoys of the Caliph of Bokhara.”
Temujin sat down with his swift feline movement, and stared openly at Taliph. The two young men regarded each other in a slightly smiling silence, one, the elegant and poetic townsman, the other the virile barbarian from the desert and the barrens. Temujin thought: He speaketh like a man, but hath the soul of a woman. A most dangerous combination! And Taliph thought: He hath the green eyes of a serpent, and the body of a Persian king. But, Allah! How he doth smell!
They liked each other at once.
Temujin said: “It is my sincere hope that the khan will soon see me, for I am athirst for the sight of my foster father again.”
Taliph replied with filial regret: “He doth fatigue himself too much on behalf of others.”
And then they smiled at each other broadly, and understood each other with the most complete perfection.
During this time, the lady of the scarlet litter had been peeping decorously but licentiously at Temujin. Her lashes fluttered as his eyes suddenly turned upon her, and she blushed as though at an urgent physical contact. But her pink lips, faintly seen through the veil, parted, and there was the swift gleam of her white teeth.
Taliph clapped his hands delicately, and a slave-woman entered, bringing with her a silver bucket full of cool water, in which stood a jewelled jug of spiced wine. The two young men drank, slowly. The lady picked up a large fan of white ostrich plumes, and began to fan Taliph with languid, flexible movements of her gemmed hand. The plumes, at moments, half hid her face, and through the fronds she darted glances of invitation at Temujin, who had again begun to stare boldly at her.
Taliph put aside his cup, and smiled at his guest.
“I have heard much of thy valor and wisdom, my lord,” he said. “I, myself, am only a poet, and know nothing of military prowess. But I enjoy hearing about it. Thou hast a reputation for immense sagacity, and a genius for organization. All speak with enthusiasm of thy many successes. Canst thou tell me how thou hast been able to do so much in such a small space of time?”
Temujin grinned. His eyes turned the color of innocent turquoises.
“I proceed always on the premise that men are stupid,” he answered, his strong steady voice in startling contrast to the musical tones of Taliph.
Taliph seemed amused. He regarded Temujin with a respectful admiration that was only partially affected.
“But dost thou not occasionally encounter men who are not stupid?”
“Yes. But these men are leaders, and so I work with them, and not against them. That is, when it doth serve my purpose. But always, I remember that men are stupid, and differ only in degree. So far, I have not had to revise mine opinion, nor have I suffered reverses for judging wrongly.”
Taliph sighed lightly. “I would like to disagree with thee, but experience doth tell me that thou art only too right. My father is sometimes not so wise. Sometimes he is guilty of believing that his opponent hath as much intelligence as he.”
And now he looked directly and ironically at Temujin, who began to smile, and then to laugh silently, his teeth flashing in the colored light of the great room. And then Taliph’s long dark face began to smile, also, and he bit his lip in a futile effort to suppress that smile. They gazed into each other’s eyes, and suddenly they laughed outright, hugely, again understanding each other.
They drank another goblet of wine. Taliph shook his head as though in ribald denial as he drank.
He asked, in a voice both frank and artless, and full of friendliness:
“Men like thee always want something, consumingly, my lord. What dost thou want?”
Temujin assumed an expression of youthful innocence. “I? I love nothing but order and peacefulness, my lord. I am the servant, as well as the son, of thy father. I
live only to serve such as he.”
Taliph pursed his lips. He shook his head with a regretful smile.
“Ah! I thought we understood each other. I thought thou mightest be candid with me.”
But Temujin merely inclined his head, narrowing his eyes, and smiling. He said at last: “I am only a soldier, my lord. And soldiers are notoriously devoted, and stupid.”
Taliph was delighted. Among his friends he found only a decadent intelligence, an affectation of cynical worldliness and disillusion. He had discovered, in Temujin, an intellect beyond any he had ever encountered before, and a wryness and irony which was not affected, but rooted in reality and comprehension, and vigorously refreshing.
“Ah, ye military men! Your devotion to those who—hire—you is remarkable. Ye serve your masters with a loyalty that might in truth come from the heart, instead of the pocket.”
Temujin grimaced with amusement. “Thou dost speak as though this loyalty of the soldier to him who doth hire him is somehow shameful. I, myself, think not. I believe it is the sign of the soldier’s superiority to other men. Loyalty because of love, or idealism, is silly, because it is based on that which doth not exist. But money is always the first and last reality, the rock on which a man can build his house and know that none can assail it.”