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"My esteemed friend," Sebastianus said through the interpreters, "you would do us a great honor by sharing our camp, and while you accept our hospitality, I will explain to you as best I can our customs, which must seem strange to you."
As Noble Heron graciously accepted, and retreated while his servants prepared his tent, Primo came up to Sebastianus and said quietly, "I do not trust that man."
Sebastianus turned to him. "Go on."
"There was something strange about the attack. For weeks now we have not been troubled by local brigands, not since we entered the sphere of Chinese military influence. All the tribes and settlements we encountered were vassals of the emperor. So how is it that these brigands should attack so close to the capital city? How could they not have seen this fellow and his enormous retinue coming up the road, clearly an envoy from the imperial court?"
"It was staged," Sebastianus said. "To assess our strengths and vulnerabilities, and to learn if we come in peace or as a conquering army. We will have to be on our guard from now on. I suspect there are more tests to come."
The imperial official stayed the night at the caravan camp, eating di
Before starting out, Timonides read his master's horoscope while Noble Heron lit incense sticks and paid respect to the Guardians of the Four Winds: snake and tortoise in the north; red bird in the south; green dragon in the east; white tiger in the west. Along the way, as they descended to lush plains and verdant farms, Noble Heron told Sebastianus about the man whom everyone called Lord Over All Under Heaven.
Emperor Ming, aged thirty, sat on the throne with his favorite wife, Consort Ma, a beautiful woman of not yet twenty years. Ming's mother was the Dowager Empress Yin, in her fifties and known for her beauty and meekness. The emperor was famous for his generosity and affection for his family; he adhered to the moral and ethical code of the Great Sage, but he also respected the many hundreds of gods in Taoist belief, and was known to have a lively curiosity about the religions and faiths of foreigners. "The Lord of All Under Heaven," Noble Heron said, "would welcome word about the gods of Li-chien."
Luoyang was situated on a plain between the Mang Mountains and the Luo River, a rectangular-shaped city surrounded by a high stone wall and a moat with drawbridges. On the congested river, Sebastianus saw craft that he had recently learned were called junks and sampans, crowded together as floating houses. Farms covered the countryside surrounding the city, where the peasants tilled the earth, yellow from sand carried in on winds from the northeastern deserts. Farmers at their labors paused to straighten and watch the remarkable procession move by; women came out of huts to stare at the long line of animals and beasts of burden, men walking alongside wearing the various costumes of different tribes.
Crowds stood on either side of the massive stone gates, as word hadreached the populace that a most remarkable caravan was coming to pay respects to the emperor. Excitement filled the air. Everyone anticipated the great festival to come, commemorating this extraordinary event.
The citizens of Luoyang were colorful in their garb, which ranged from hemp to silk, in all the hues of the rainbow, elegant men in bright robes, peasants and merchants in trousers and tunics. But Sebastianus was more interested in the guards occupying the sixteen tall towers, their armor glinting in the sun, their crossbows at the ready. Noble Heron directed the caravan to a large area on the western side of the city, where smaller caravans were already camped, and where, Sebastianus was not surprised to see, an impressive contingent of imperial soldiers waited to take their places as guards of the newly arrived goods from the west.
"You will grant us the honor," Noble Heron said, "of being our guests in the city. You might wish to retrieve personal items from your caravan."
At the city gate, carrying chairs were waiting for the visitors, small conveyances enclosed in colorful fabric and borne on the shoulders of slaves in matching costumes. Noble Heron, with his entourage, led the way, and Sebastianus, Timonides, Primo, and the three interpreters, followed. Timonides insisted upon bringing Nestor along, as he had lately developed a habit of wandering off.
When the procession emerged on the other side, the newcomers looked out the small windows of the carrying chairs and found themselves on a broad avenue lined with onlookers, behind whom multistoried pagodas rose, their red-tiled roofs shining in the sun. Tiny bells jingled on the enclosed chairs as the slaves trotted down the avenue, and when the aroma of cooking and smoke and flowering blossoms reached Sebastianus's nostrils, when he saw the upcurved eaves of the Oriental roofs, when he heard the exotic cadence of Chinese speech as citizens remarked and commented on the strange looks of the foreigners—when it truly struck Sebastianus that he was here at last, the first man from the west to enter the capital city of Imperial China, he felt his heart expand with pride and excitement. He sent a silent prayer to his ancestors—the fathers and grandfathers who had carved trade routes before him and who would be so proud of this moment: when a son of Gallus had reached the other side of the world!
He wished Ulrika were at his side. And little did he know, five years ago, when they first met outside of Rome, that he would be making such an extraordinary wish.
They were carried through another gate and into a courtyard where attendants stood waiting. Noble Heron explained that this was the special residence reserved for esteemed visitors and important dignitaries. Sebastianus and his companions would be given the opportunity to wash off the dust and grime of travel before being taken before the emperor.
They were led down a colo
Over the miles and months of travel, Sebastianus and his companions had adapted local dress and had arrived in Luoyang wearing leather trousers and padded lamb's wool tunics. But these were discarded now, as they enjoyed steaming baths in enormous bamboo tubs filled with fragrant water. To the shock and delight of the weary men from Rome, young ladies in long blue wraparound robes scrubbed their backs and limbs, and afterward massaged their bodies with warm oil. Sebastianus, Timonides, and Primo enjoyed their first shaves and haircuts in months, and began to feel like civilized Romans again.
When Noble Heron returned to escort them into the imperial presence of the Lord of Ten Thousand Years, he stopped short and stared at his transformed guests, now formally garbed in Roman tunic and toga, Greek robes, and the tunic and leather breastplate of a legionary.
"Aya," Noble Heron whispered, his normally composed face suddenly a landscape of distress. He was silent for a long moment and appeared to be struggling with his next words. "I beg our esteemed visitor to forgive this miserable servant if any offense is caused, for I do not know your customs for mourning. If I dishonor you or your family in any way, may I suffer the death of a thousand cuts. But ... who has died?"