The Prisoner's Gold

57

Late the following day, they all met in Papineau’s suite for a briefing.

This time Maggie had called the meeting.

Maggie and Garcia arrived together and were the last ones to show up. She carried a notebook and an iPad in her arms, while Garcia walked in with his laptop. She was dressed conservatively, but Garcia wore shorts, flip-flops, and yet another T-shirt. This one read: NERD? I PREFER THE TERM INTELLECTUAL BADASS.

The room was nearly identical to Garcia’s suite, and the others had all taken the same positions they had occupied the day before. Garcia set his computer on the desk and flipped it open. His screen was split into six columns, each streaming different sets of data. Papineau glanced at the program but couldn’t figure out what he was looking at.

‘Okay,’ Maggie said as she faced the group, ‘we’ve finished the translation of Polo’s journal. The software is terrible at colloquial expressions and outdated terms, but I’ve had a chance to skim through the diary a couple of times.’

‘And?’ Cobb asked.

‘It’s a tragic tale, really. Our Marco found the love of his life, the Chinese girl Yangchen, at a time when interracial relationships weren’t just frowned upon, they were unheard of. As it was, Westerners themselves were pretty much unheard of in China, so you can imagine the furor that it caused.’

‘I’ll bet,’ Sarah said.

‘As Professor Chu told us, Yangchen acted as his guide in Lanzhou, and they quickly fell in love. Unfortunately, everyone they met in the province was full of hatred and scorn. No one was actually violent toward Marco — he possessed the golden tablet after all — but most people they encountered let them know how they felt. Worried for her emotional well-being, Polo decided to take Yangchen to Tibet where he hoped the Buddhist population would be more receptive.’

‘Was it?’ Papineau asked.

Maggie shook her head. ‘Not really. Polo and Yangchen pretty much faced the same reaction that they had in Lanzhou. The lone exception was the clergy. They were a bit more open-minded.’

‘Sounds like a first for clergy anywhere,’ McNutt cracked.

Maggie smiled at the joke. ‘Yangchen’s brother, Lobsang, was a monk at the Songtem temple, which was on the same hill where the Potala sits today. On the couple’s behalf, her brother begged his superior for permission to let them reside in Lhasa. If the lama approved of the interracial relationship, the locals would all come around eventually, and the couple would have been able to get married and live out their days peacefully in Tibet.’

‘I’m guessing that didn’t happen,’ Sarah said.

‘Afraid not,’ Maggie said. ‘The lama refused to give his blessing, but he did show some compassion by giving them sanctuary while they searched for a new place to live. By then, Polo had realized that his original plan of bringing Yangchen back to Italy would be met with even worse scorn and disapproval than he had encountered in China. After all, in Europe he would be just an ordinary man with a foreign bride, and he would no longer have the protection of the Khan. Not sure where to go or what to do, Polo turned to Lobsang for advice.’

‘What did her brother say?’ Cobb asked.

‘He strongly recommended the island of Taprobane.’

‘Taprobane?’ McNutt said. ‘Never heard of it.’

‘Thankfully, Polo had — he had been there previously on a secret mission for the Khan. Nowadays the island goes by a different name: Sri Lanka.’

McNutt grinned. ‘Now that’s a name I know. Quite well, in fact. Did I ever tell you guys about the time that I took a live chicken and—’

‘Hold on,’ Cobb said, cutting McNutt off. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, Sri Lanka wasn’t on the list of countries that Polo had visited. Are you saying your initial list was wrong?’

Maggie didn’t flinch. She knew Cobb was being thorough. ‘I’m saying that my initial list needs to be updated based on new information from the diary. Although the island is mentioned twice in the Rustichello version of things, it’s implied that Marco didn’t personally visit. According to Rustichello, the king of the native people, known as the Sinhalese, had a ruby the size of a human fist. Polo and others in China had heard tales of the stone, and the Khan had sent an unknown emissary to the island to offer a city’s worth of riches in exchange for the ruby, but the Sinhalese king had refused.’

‘Let me guess: Polo was the emissary,’ Sarah said.

Maggie nodded. ‘In his diary, Polo mentions how impressed he had been with the island and how kind and generous he had found the people to be. That’s in direct contrast to the account in many published versions of Rustichello’s book, where Polo refused to go there because he had heard the Sinhalese were “paltry and mean-spirited creatures”.’

‘That doesn’t add up,’ McNutt said.

‘You’re right, Joshua. It doesn’t. Polo was obviously lying to Rustichello about the people of Sri Lanka. My guess is he did so to throw him off the scent.’

‘Either that,’ Cobb said, ‘or the descriptions are from different points in Polo’s life. Maybe he was impressed by the Sinhalese when he first met them, but later when he took Yangchen to the island with hopes of settling down, they treated him poorly.’

‘Yes,’ Maggie admitted, ‘that’s another possibility, but a good one: it would mean Polo actually went to Sri Lanka.’

Papineau rejoined the conversation. ‘What do we know about the brother? I’m assuming Polo trusted him if he left his diary at the temple for safekeeping?’

Maggie nodded. ‘Marco spoke very highly of her brother. He mentioned that Lobsang was an academic who was studying the regional differences between Buddhism in Tibet and Buddhism in Sri Lanka. Much like Polo, he had done a lot of traveling himself. Back then, monasteries sent scholars abroad from time to time to bear gifts and good wishes. Based on Lobsang’s travels, he felt that Sri Lanka was a place where the couple could spend the rest of their lives in peace.’

‘Did Lobster mention anywhere specific? Sri Lanka’s roughly the size of Scotland. A hell of a lot warmer, though,’ McNutt said.

Maggie smiled. ‘Lobsang mentioned a few landmarks that impressed him, but nothing more than that.’

‘Anything else?’ Cobb asked.

‘One more thing,’ Maggie said. She held up her iPad and showed the others a picture of one of the pages in Polo’s diary. It was mostly in Latin letters, with a few swirly, round symbols. ‘The letters you can’t read are Sinhala, one of the two major ethnic languages spoken in Sri Lanka. Although Polo doesn’t say so explicitly, I believe Lobsang was teaching him the language.’

‘Which makes sense if Polo was planning to move there,’ Sarah said.

Cobb nodded in agreement. ‘What’s your next step?’

Maggie glanced at Garcia. ‘I’ll need Hector’s help to narrow down any possible sites in Sri Lanka. I also need to finish the Thokmay manuscript. It might have further clues for us, but it will take some time.’

‘Actually,’ Cobb said, ‘you can do your research in the air. As much as I like this hotel, I’d prefer to keep moving in case the Fists are closing in.’

‘In the air to where?’ Papineau asked.

Cobb smiled. ‘I thought that was obvious. We’re going to Sri Lanka.’