Daughter of Xanadu by Dori Jones Yang

Author:Dori Jones Yang
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Social Science, Kublai Khan, Asia, Fiction, Mongols, Marco, 1260-1368, China, Social Issues, Love & Romance, Juvenile Fiction, Historical, People & Places, History, Love, Action & Adventure, China - History - Y'uan dynasty, General, Gender Studies, Sex role, Polo, Soldiers, Ancient Civilizations
ISBN: 9780385739238
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2011-01-11T07:24:45.032474+00:00

Each morning, I reminded myself how lucky I was to be a soldier on a mission, traveling ever farther from all that was familiar. Perhaps it was my Mongol heritage, but in the open air, I felt taller, stronger, wiser. In my memory, the Emperor’s court became more closed-in and narrow. If only those people could get out and see how vast the sky was, and how the land stretched on and on. They would have a whole new sense of life.

Yet I also felt unsettled. I was a soldier at last, one of the few recruits chosen to go on this distant mission. I knew Abaji was watching me, to see how well I would withstand the rigors of travel and army life. This travel seemed easy. But I had doubts about my courage and preparedness. Was I tough enough for battle?

In North China under the Great Khan, the region known as Cathay, the Empire was at peace. The roads were wide, smooth, and well maintained, slightly raised and bordered by drainage ditches and trees. Sturdy stone bridges crossed numerous streams and rivers. Excellent hostelries with clean rooms and passable food were located a day’s journey apart. The autumn weather was pleasantly cool, and the red leaves sparkled in the sunlight and sprinkled the hillsides with color. Traveling was much less taxing than daily military training. I could feel my muscles growing lazy. Once, I even envied the soldiers left behind in Khanbalik; they were improving their skills daily.

Every time our troops passed a small town, vendors crowded around, eager to sell us whatever we might need. In these towns, I saw for the first time the merchant in Marco. He always sought out the town’s marketplace. At dinner each night with Abaji, he would describe the unusual local products. He particularly praised the excellence of the silk cloth, gold thread, taffetas, and brocade. I had been raised to have disdain for merchants, who live off the labor of others. But gradually, I could see the appeal of his life.

After traveling through hilly country, we crossed a huge roaring river called the Caramoran, “Black River” in Mongolian. Chinese call it the Yellow River, because it carries silt from the yellowish soil of nearby hills. We loaded our horses and mules onto ferries, which took us across the wide river.

Eight days later, we arrived in Kenjanfu, the ancient capital of Cathay. Called by the Chinese the City of Eternal Peace, it had once been a great and fine capital, noble and rich, the most populous, cosmopolitan city in the world, home to powerful emperors for ten dynasties. A massive gray wall surrounded it, with four huge gates pointing toward the four cardinal directions. I wondered if it had been difficult to conquer. Parts of the city wall were in disrepair, with bricks lying about. It had fallen three hundred years earlier.

It was common knowledge that the Cathayan empire had collapsed when its later emperors grew lazy, spending too much time with women.

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