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When Sebastianus had once considered simply asking the emperor's permission to go home, Noble Heron had warned him that such a request would be a great insult to the Heavenly Lord, as it would tell the world that the emperor's hospitality was lacking, for why else would guests wish to leave? In order to save face, the Lord of Ten Thousand Years would have to counteract by increasing his hospitality to the foreign guests by making their stay in Luoyang even more luxurious. And they would still be prisoners.
And now the tour was over, tomorrow they were to return to Luoyang. Both Sebastianus and Emperor Ming knew that the Romans' usefulness had come to an end. Both were weary of the novelty of this first meeting between east and west. Sebastianus suspected that Ming would be pleased for them to leave, to return to Caesar and inform him of the might and power of EmperorMing. However, to allow the Romans leave would cause Ming to lose face. To allow them even an avenue of escape, no matter how cleverly staged, would be perceived as a weakness of the emperor's security guard.
And so they were at a stalemate, and Sebastianus was at a loss to find a solution.
At his side, standing in disgruntled silence, Timonides watched the polo match with a jaundiced eye. An idiotic way to pass the time, he thought as he marveled at the fever-pitch frenzy of the spectators who screamed and jumped up and down and cursed and cheered. Chariot races were so much more civilized. Timonides could not wait to get back to his own world. He was looking forward to the fame they were certain to enjoy in Rome. There would most likely be a triumphal parade in their honor, and feasting that would go on for days. Rice and noodles were all well and good, but he missed sinking his teeth into a loaf of good hot bread dipped in olive oil.
Nestor exploded with laughter and clapped his hands. It made the old Greek's heart expand with love to see his son enjoying himself so. He knew that Nestor did not grasp what he was watching, that there were points to be won and prizes to be had. The boy just liked watching the horses thundering back and forth amid the shouts of the riders. And after all it wasn't necessary for Nestor to understand the game because Timonides knew that his son's simple mind was now a repository of countless recipes for exotic dishes that were going to make him very popular in Rome.
We will open an eating house near the Forum and people will come from miles around for a taste of fabled China. Senators will sit at the tables of Timonides the Greek. Perhaps even the Emperor himself ...
The polo game ended and the visitors from the west—who bore the extreme distinction of being guests of the Emperor of China—were invited to dine in the tent of the Tazhkin chief. Ming and his empress, and their entourage of over five hundred, dined separately in a collection of red and gold pavilions that made up a small village. Sebastianus and his friends were not part of that elite, unapproachable clique.
The banquet put on by Chief Jammu was surprisingly sumptuous, with expensive delicacies and costly wine that flowed freely. As Sebastianus and his friends sat cross-legged on elegant carpets and dined off brass plates, itwas apparent that this was a wealthy tribe. Jammu's many guests, the heads of noble families, were healthy and well dressed. The men wore tall hats made of colorful felt, with sheepskin vests and woolen trousers, while the women wore pantaloons beneath long silk shifts. Maidens covered their faces with veils while the wives of prosperous men festooned their foreheads with gold coins. Many villages and settlements the emperor had visited were inhabited by farmers barely making a subsistence living, but these Tazhkin, with their platters heaped with meat, and goblets brimming with wine, were wealthy.
From what? Sebastianus wondered.
The usual dancers and musicians, jugglers and acrobats were brought out to entertain the men from the west, while Sebastianus tried to describe Rome to Chief Jammu—now with the aid of a fourth translator who spoke Chinese and Tazhkin, so that Sebastianus wondered how accurately his information was being conveyed, going through four men as it did.
More wine flowed and the music grew louder until Chief Jammu—a large, barrel-chested man with missing teeth and bronze skin—began to boast about something Sebastianus could not comprehend. The translators, it seemed, grew less skillful the more the wine loosened their tongues. And so when he hefted his large frame from the carpet and gestured to his guests, Sebastianus and Primo and Timonides had to rise with him and wonder where they were being taken.
Outside, they found imperial Chinese guards standing watch, as they had done since leaving Luoyang—a constant reminder to Sebastianus that he and his companions were prisoners—and they fell into step behind the small group as the chief led them through the chilly spring night.
They arrived at an enormous tent, even larger than the one in which they had dined and been entertained. It glowed from within and was guarded by Tazhkin soldiers, who snapped to attention when they saw their chief. Sebastianus could not imagine the purpose of so large a tent, or why it was guarded, and he suspected that he and Timonides and Primo were about to be shown the tribe's treasure. He imagined gold and gems as the chief bent his tall frame to step through the opening.
They followed, with Timonides making sure his son did not bang hishead on the wooden door frame, for Nestor was taller even than the Tazhkin chief. As their eyes adjusted to the dim light of the interior, the visitors from the west frowned at the sight before them. "What is this?" Timonides asked, taking in the rows of tables that appeared to be covered with balls of white cotton.
They were led closer, and saw that the "cotton balls" were lined in rows and pinched between long wooden dowels, thousands of them, lying on the racks like snow. Through the translators, the visitors learned from Chief Jammu that what they were looking at were the cocoons of silk moths. The man from Pisa, who spoke Persian and Latin, explained that the special moths were husbanded like cattle or sheep, nurtured and protected until they lay their eggs on specially prepared paper. When the eggs hatched, the newborn caterpillars were fed fresh leaves, and after one month were ready. A wooden frame was placed over the tray of caterpillars and each began spi
The caterpillars were then killed by heat, and the cocoons were soaked in boiling water to soften the silk fibers, which were then unwound to produce continuous threads.
The guests followed Jammu as he boastfully described this process, and Sebastianus knew that he was omitting certain steps because it was illegal for anyone other than silk farmers to know the secret of making silk. So carefully guarded was the secret of manufacturing silk, in fact, that it was a death sentence to even try to smuggle a single silkworm out of China.
It took five thousand silkworms, Jammu bragged through his missing front teeth, to make one silk robe. Which was why, Sebastianus and his friends knew, silk was so costly in Rome, especially as it must pass through so many middlemen after leaving China, with each raising the price in order to make a profit. Were this secret ever to make it back to Rome, along with moths to start a small silk farm, the lucrative business here in China would dry up.
At the conclusion of the tour, the visitors were treated to a dazzling sight: rows of racks holding harvested silk that was awaiting only to be woven and dyed and made into scrolls, wall hangings, kites, clothing. The long silkyfilaments, bundled so thickly that they resembled a woman's tresses, glowed like white gold in the flickering torchlight. Sebastianus and his friends were speechless at the sight of the gossamer strands, worth even more than gold or the rarest of gemstones.