Shame of Man (49 page)

Now little Scevo covered his mouth. The Mongol's boldness of insult was amazing.

“I think the Mongols had better remain far from Kwarizm,” Huu said.

“No, the fools sent a caravan. It is on its way now, moving along the Jaxartes River, approaching the frontier city of Otrar. It is said to have great wealth in gifts for the sultan.”

“That might help,” Huu said. But the matter bothered him. Why should the Mongol khan have sent such a caravan to likely extinction? Was the man a fool? He did not know much about politics, but he had never heard the khan spoken of as a leader without wit.

But there was no time to ponder the matter, because now the Shah was ready for his entertainment, and they were ushered to the meeting hall. It was called the Kapu, meaning the entrance to the sovereign's tent, but though the name reflected the more austere origin of the setting, the reality did not. This was the richest chamber yet, with marvelously woven Persian rugs hanging on its walls and covering much of its floor.

The Shah was seated on a comfortable couch, wearing a robe so fancy that its gems sparkled at every point. He was attended by the usual corps of courtiers, servants, and several favored wives from his harem guarded by a eunuch. Some were sipping sherbets from fancy mugs. The mugs, unlike the walls, were painted with human figures. Human statuary was forbidden,
lest it be taken as graven images, but paintings were not icons and therefor not as restricted. The stricture against human or animal likenesses applied mainly to those things that “cast a shadow"—that were three-dimensional.

They did the same music and dance they had done at home, because that was the one they were sure Scevo could do without faltering. The woman and the girl were in costume now, dancing in a manner that had the courtiers watching with open relish, and the music was perfect for them. The wives focused especially on Miin, and that renewed Huu's nervousness; they were recognizing the girl's potential. A number of courtiers glanced at Scevo, evidently impressed by his command of the instrument, not knowing that this was the only accompaniment he could handle. Huu played carefully, making sure there was no slip, but could tell that the effect was being received very well. But none of that mattered, for there was only one person who counted.

The Shah watched and listened impassively. Then he smiled. Their act was a success!

Then they were ushered out, as the Shah retired to his harem. “You broke his mood,” Raay said gratefully. “I think it was the novelty of the act. A woman and a girl dancing together—that was beautiful. And a man and a small boy playing music together. I think it was the boy who did it. He was so zestful.”

A Persian clerk saw to their recompense: a generous payment in silver. Persians handled the organization and administration of the empire, as they had through the last several waves of Turkish conquest. Barbarians might be good at combat, but it required civilized folk to actually run things. Huu had understood long since that the arts and crafts were the most secure livelihood; the risk of injury or death was minimal, and the rewards could be both material and esthetic. That was why he was encouraging his children in the arts; dancing and music would assure their futures as well as any endeavors could.

Back home, they recounted their experience to Desert Flower. “The Shah liked Scevo!” Miin said.

“The Shah liked you, too,” Huu told her, and she blushed as if never complimented before. That was a maidenly art she had practiced diligently.

“But that is a curious thing, the way the Mongol khan is acting,” Ana said.

“The Mongol khan?” Desert Flower asked.

“He called the Shah his son!” Miin exclaimed. “Can you imagine! No wonder the Shah is furious. And now the khan is sending another caravan here.”

“Why is the Shah angry?” Desert Flower asked, perplexed.

“That's the same as calling him a vassal,” Huu explained. “He is nobody's vassal.”

“No, it isn't,” Desert Flower said. “It is a compliment. The khan dotes on his sons—even the one that isn't his.”

Scevo looked at her, not so young as not to relate to this. For Scevo, like Miin, was adopted.

“One isn't his?” Ana asked, surprised for similar reason. She never spoke of it, but the loss of her elder son still pained her deeply, as it did Huu. The boy had been killed in an accident just before they adopted Scevo.

“His eldest,” Desert Flower said. “The khan's wife was stolen just after they were married, and he didn't get her back for months, and then she was with child. But he accepted the child anyway. And he stands by his sons. Nobody crosses any of them. He paid the Shah a signal honor, calling him a son. This is how it is, with my people.”

Huu exchanged a glance with Ana. “This is mischief,” he said. “We shall have to get word to the Shah.”

“Immediately,” she agreed. “We did not know the steppe peoples’ way.”

Huu wrapped himself in his cloak and went through the night, back to the palace. He sought audience with the vizier, but the man had retired, and all he could get was an assistant. He explained about the misunderstanding, and how important it was to notify the Shah. But the man looked dubious, and Huu wasn't at all sure he understood. Yet it was all that could be done this night. Despondent, he returned home.

The next day he tried again, managing to reach the office of the vizier himself. He had to wait for some time in an anteroom, for the vizier was busy, but it was known that Huu was favored by the Shah, so he was put into the schedule. Two other men were waiting also, whiling away the time by playing a game of backgammon. At one point a slave passed through with a cheetah on a leash; the ferocious cat was a pet of the Shah's, and had to be kept in health by regular exercise. Later several serving maids scurried by on an errand for Muhammad's mother, Turkhan-Khatun. The formidable woman was much feared at court, being as temperamental and arbitrary as her son. The funny thing was that her worst malice was directed toward her own grandson, Jalal al-Din, who was the Shah's son and likely heir. He was a capable and courageous commander and a man of good will, a favorite of both his father and the court, but his grandmother loathed him and schemed constantly against him. Huu agreed with most others that things would be better if the vile grandmother were to come to a sudden end, but the worst that any of them could do was relay mischievous tales about her.

At last it was his turn to see the vizier, Biil, who was a somewhat harried man, not at all a warrior type. He had, according to Persian custom, been presented by the Shah with an ink pot when appointed to his position, and he always wore it on a fine chain, as the symbol of his office. Huu explained his concern. This time he got better news. “The Shah knows about that. It's an insult, but the khan is a barbarian, giving offense from sheer ignorance. Allowance has been made.” His expression suggested that this had required
some doing, however. “There will be peace and trade between the two empires.”

Huu was relieved, realizing that the lower functionary had not been current on this matter. He apologized for bothering Biil about something that turned out to be of no importance. “By no means,” the vizier demurred. “This could have been supremely important, and I am glad to know that had I not learned of it elsewhere, you would have called it to my attention. It demonstrates your loyalty to the welfare of the empire.” That was the man's way of saying that Huu
had
wasted his time, but he didn't mind. Huu returned home with the good news.

But soon there was worse. The governor of the frontier town of Otrar, on the river Jaxartes, had arrested a Mongol caravan, confiscated the animals and their loads of treasure, and executed the Mongol in charge, together with all his attendants.

“But why?” Desert Flower asked, in evident pain for the deaths of her countrymen. “There was an agreement for trade.”

“The governor claims they were spies,” Huu said.

“A Mongol noble bringing gifts to the Shah?” she asked. “And all his attendants? There might be spies among them, because there always are, but that's routine. Don't the Shah's caravans have spies too?”

“They surely do,” Huu agreed. “I suspect that the governor of Otrar, known to dislike Mongols, made up a pretext to rob the caravan, hoping that would excuse it.”

“But the Shah shouldn't believe that,” Desert Flower protested.

Huu shook his head. “It seems that the Shah believes what he chooses to believe. Now he is angry again.”

“Couldn't you talk to him?”

“To the Shah?” Huu shook his head. “To the vizier, maybe. Why are you so concerned about this?”

“Because I know something of this man Genghis. He has made a reputation among my people. He is the smartest and most ruthless khan we've ever had. Killing his envoys will bring war, and the khan will win it. There will be terrible destruction.”

Huu saw that she was serious, but she was only 13 and no expert in diplomacy or war. “We shall just have to hope it doesn't come to war, then,” he said.

Still, the Shah did seem to be pursuing an inappropriate course. As time passed, Huu did talk with the vizier Biil again, who agreed that it was foolish to stir up a potential enemy without reason. It would result at best in the inconvenience of border hostilities, and at worst in open warfare, pointlessly draining the resources of the empire. But Biil thought that the Shah was slowly reconsidering the matter, because he did have many other concerns. For one thing, there was still the nest of opposition centered in Baghdad, that the Shah still wanted to deal with. It would not be expedient
to get into quarrels both east and west. “There is another Mongol caravan coming here,” he said. “Said to be the richest one yet. If the Mongol apologizes for his prior slur, and promises to send no more spies, peace may be achieved.”

Huu reported that at home, and Desert Flower was comforted. She went about her work with greater cheer, and that had a beneficial effect on the family, for Miin and Scevo really liked her.

Meanwhile they sharpened their family performance. Scevo learned to play a second melody on the dulcimer, and a third, proceeding with enthusiasm. Miin danced, her body seeming to flesh out farther with each performance. Huu schooled himself to be objective, but even so it seemed to him that the two were quite good. At such time as age forced Ana to retire from display dancing, Miin would be ready to take her place. And Huu was already working out duets with Scevo that seemed to have real promise.

Indeed, their success as a family was flourishing. They were performing at the palace more often, and their status and economic situation improved accordingly. Their presentations satisfied the Shah in a way that most others did not. The outlook was good.

Then the Mongol caravan arrived. The vizier thought the Shah might be persuaded to accept peace, grudgingly. To improve the mood, he arranged for Huu's family to perform for the Shah and the Mongol envoys. If that mellowed the Shah sufficiently, all would be well. This time they had Desert Flower with them, to tend to their last moment preparations and remember any details they might overlook. This was not the time for any mistake.

They performed well, and it was plain that both the Shah and the Mongol leader were impressed. Then they retired discreetly, and the business of the occasion proceeded. But they did not go home; Biil kept them nearby, in readiness, in case there was further need for their services. Thus it was that they were in an antechamber, close enough to see and hear the discussion.

The spokesman for the Mongol mission was a noble of Kwarizm, so that no translation was required. He addressed the Shah forthrightly. “The Great Khan of the Mongols sends his greetings, and still regards you as a friend,” the man said, carefully avoiding the word “son.” But it didn't help; the Shah's scowl indicated that the term he heard was “vassal.” Huu and his family held their breaths, hoping that no disaster would come of this. “The khan realizes that subordinates sometimes act without authority, generating mischief. Therefore he requests the extradition of the governor of Otrar, who—”

“Extradition!” the Shah cried. “Because he executed your spies? This is outrageous!”

“Oh, no,” Ana murmured. It was falling apart.

“I'll show you what I think of such a demand!” the Shah continued
grimly. He turned to the vizier. “Execute this traitor. Shave the Mongols’ heads bald and ship them back to their master as a warning not to trifle with his betters.”

“No!” Desert Flower screamed. Then she clapped her hands over her mouth, appalled at her outburst.

The Shah's head turned. He had heard.

“Depart the palace—swiftly and quietly,” Huu said. He led the way.

The palace personnel assumed that the entertainers had been routinely dismissed, as had been the case before, and did not bar their exit. They made it out of the palace. But Huu knew that there would soon be pursuit, as Biil reluctantly obeyed orders. “We must flee the city—and the empire,” he said tersely. “We must not even pass our home, for they will check that first.”

“It's my fault!” Desert Flower said.

It was, but Huu saw no point in recriminations. They had all been upset by the senseless outcome of the Mongols’ mission. “Can your people help us escape?”

“Yes,” Desert Flower said. “I think.”

So, suddenly, they were on their way to exile. Somehow the situation seemed familiar.

The Shah's arrogance had led him into rare rashness. In fact he had made a mistake of global proportion. The shaving of the hair and beards of the Mongol envoys was an insult beyond redemption. When Genghis Khan learned of it, he reacted with deceptive calm. “You have chosen war. The Blue Sky alone knows what will happen.” Because the Shah had already alienated the caliph, he could not rally the forces of Islam to his banner in a Jihad against the Mongols. His armies were powerful, but lacked the force of spiritual unity.

The following year the Mongols invaded Kwarizm. The Mongol force was no massive horde; it was numerically inferior to that of the defenders, being 150,000 men, but that was no indication of its power. It consisted principally of cavalry, buttressed by a core of Chinese engineers whose arsenal of siege weapons was devastating, such as catapults hurling flaming naphtha bombs. The troops were the toughest known in Asia, and highly disciplined. The Mongol military intelligence was phenomenally competent. The generals possessed strategic and tactical genius that remains the subject of military admiration and awe even today. Taken as a whole, it was probably the finest fighting force ever assembled up to that time, and it was utterly ruthless.

In six months the empire of Kwarizm was destroyed, and the Shah killed. The governor of Otrar was captured, and molten silver was poured into his ears and nostrils: he had been given the wealth he evidently craved. Cities were completely razed, their populations shipped back to Mongolia as slaves or artisans, or killed. Pyramids of severed heads were formed. Central Asia may never have
recovered from the fury of the Mongol invasion. Before it was completed, Mongol power expanded all the way to the border of Egypt, Russia was conquered in the only successful winter campaign against it, and an invasion of Europe was halted only by the coincidental death of the reigning khan. It became the largest land empire of all time. And its sudden, savage thrust westward may have brought gunpowder to Europe, which was to transform warfare in another way.

All because the Shah miscalculated.