Among the Ilkhan's scribes was a Greek who spoke a bastard French and acted as interpreter.King Louis' letter was read, and in that hall its devout phrases seemed a mockery.The royal gifts were produced, the tent-chapel with its woven pictures and the sacred utensils.The half-drunk captains fingered them curiously, but the eyes from the throne scarcely regarded them.
"These are your priests," said the Khakan "Let them talk with my priests and then go their own way.I have little concern with priestcraft."Then Aimery spoke, and the Greek with many haltings translated.He reminded Houlagou of the Tartar envoys who had sought from his King instruction in the Christian faith and had proclaimed his baptism.
"Of that I know nothing," was the answer."Maybe 'twas some whim of my brother Kublai.I have all the gods I need."With a heavy heart Aimery touched on the proposed alliance, the advance on Bagdad, and the pinning of the Saracens between two fires.He spoke as he had been ordered, but with a bitter sense of futility, for what kind of ally could be looked for in this proud pagan?
The impassive face showed no flicker of interest.
"I am eating up the Caliphs," he said, "but that food is for my own table.
As for allies, I have need of none.The children of the Blue Wolf do not make treaties."Then he spoke aside to his captains, and fixed Aimery with his agate eyes.
It was like listening to a voice from a stone.
"The King of France has sent you to ask for peace.Peace, no doubt, is good, and I will grant it of my favour.A tribute will be fixed in gold and silver, and while it is duly paid your King's lands will be safe from my warriors.Should the tribute fail, France will be ours.I have heard that it is a pleasant place."The Ilkhan signed that the audience was over.The fountains of liquor ceased to play, and the drunken gathering stood up with a howling like wild beasts to acclaim their King.Aimery went back to his hut, and sat deep in thought far into the night.
He perceived that the shadows were closing in upon him.He must get the friars away, and with them a message to his master.For himself there could be no return, for he could not shame his King who had trusted him.
In the bestial twilight of this barbaric court the memory of Louis shone like a star.He must attempt to reach Kublai, of whom men spoke well, though the journey cost him his youth and his life.It might mean years of wandering, but there was a spark of hope in it.There, in the bleak hut, he suffered the extreme of mental anguish A heavy door seemed to have closed between him and all that he held dear.He fell on his knees and prayed to the saints to support his loneliness.And then he found comfort, for had not God's Son suffered even as he, and left the bright streets of Paradise for loneliness among the lost?
Next morning he faced the world with a clearer eye.It was not difficult to provide for the Franciscans.They, honest men, understood nothing save that the Tartar king had not the love of holy things for which they had hoped.They explained the offices of the Church as well as they could to ribald and uncomprehending auditors, and continued placidly in their devotions.As it chanced, a convoy was about to start for Muscovy, whence by ship they might come to Constantinople.The Tartars made no objection to their journey, for they had some awe of these pale men and were glad to be quit of foreign priestcraft.With them Aimery sent a letter in which he told the King that the immediate errand had been done.but that no good could be looked for from this western Khakan."I go," he said," to Kublai the Great, in Cathay, who has a heart more open to God.If I return not, know, Sire, that I am dead in your most loving service, joyfully and pridefully as a Christian knight dies for the Cross, his King, and his lady." He added some prayers on behalf of the little household at Beaumanoir and sealed it with his ring.It was the ring he had got from his father, a thick gold thing in which had been cut his cognisance of three lions' heads.
This done, he sought an audience with the Ilkhan, and told him of his purpose.Houlagou did not speak for a little, and into his set face seemed to creep an ill-boding shadow of a smile."Who am I," he said at length, "to hinder your going to my brother Kublai? I will give you an escort to my eastern borders."Aimery bent his knee and thanked him, but from the courtiers rose a hubbub of mirth which chilled his gratitude.He was aware that he sailed on very desperate waters.
Among the Tartars was a recreant Genoese who taught them metal work and had once lived at the court of Cambaluc.The man had glimmerings of honesty, and tried hard to dissuade Aimery from the journey."It is a matter of years," he told him, "and the road leads through deserts greater than all Europe and over mountains so high and icy that birds are frozen in the crossing.And a word in your ear, my lord.The Ilkhan permits few to cross his eastern marches.Beware of treason, I say.Your companions are the blood-thirstiest of the royal guards."But from the Genoese he obtained a plan of the first stages of the road, and one morning in autumn he set out from the Tartar city, his squire from the Boulonnais by his side, and at his back a wild motley of horsemen, wearing cuirasses of red leather stamped with the blue wolf of Houlagou's house.
