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hissing and crackling in the hearth. Set in the wooden floor at the centre of the room was a porcelain tub. It had been filled with rose-scented water and rose petals floated on its surface. Temur’s eyes went to the Great Khan, lying half submerged in the tub. Wrapped like mating snakes around his body were two nubile and naked young women attendants. Another woman, a light blue shroud covering her from head to toe, was seated on a small stool a few feet away. A man, his head covered by a cowl, stood some distance away.
    Temur bowed low from the waist and, still bowed, greeted his grandfather in the approved manner.
    ‘Salutations to the Great Khan,’ he murmured.
    ‘How are you, Grandson?’
    Temur looked up to meet his grandfather’s eyes and realized that he was being directed to a stool that had been placed close to the tub in anticipation of his arrival.
    ‘Very well, Revered Grandfather,’ he replied.
    ‘And how is the province of Yunnan?’
    ‘Its people are basking in the benevolence of Yuan rule.’
    ‘And the news from Annam?’
    His grandfather’s voice was dangerously soft. This was the trick question Temur had expected and was loath to answer.
    He took a deep breath and said with the courage of youth, ‘It is not well, Great Khan.’
    The man in the tub looked shrewdly at the younger man and read the apprehension in his eyes. A half-chuckle escaped his lips.
    ‘Good, young man, good. I expected no less from you. They warned me I was making a mistake when I appointed you over many others, but you have proved yourself.’ The Great Khan paused and continued softly, ‘It is a large cake and in a large cake, there will be cracks.’
    ‘We will seal them, Great Khan. The armies are itching to do your bidding. Just give the word and we will bring you the heads of these half-men impaled on our spears,’ Temur declared with feeling.
    ‘Yes, Temur, it may come to that, but you will not go with the armies.’
    ‘Great Khan?’ Temur was puzzled.
    ‘You will rule in my place, beloved Grandson. It is to you that I will pass on the trust of Genghis.’ Then, almost as an afterthought, he murmured, ‘I am dying, my boy.’
    Temur’s head reeled at the revelation and he felt unsteady, in danger of falling off his stool. The rumours he had heard in the city were true; the Great Khan was on his deathbed.
    ‘Is that what the royal physicians say, Great Khan?’ he asked. ‘We will send for others, the best from every corner of the world, my lord.’
    ‘The best are already in this palace, Temur,’ the Great Khan said testily. ‘I have grown weary of their ministrations.’ Then he added in a gentler voice, ‘They give me six months at the most. They lie; I have far less time left.’
    There was nothing the young man could think of to say. He had contemplated this very situation – he could hardly deny it to himself – but had banished the prospect as no more feasible than a futile dream.
    There was silence in the room, broken only by the splashing of water in the tub, the young attendants unmindful of the import of what was being said as they applied sandalwood and turmeric paste on the Great Khan’s rotund body.
    Finally, the Great Khan spoke again. ‘Marco had told me about the Christian quest for immortality. It seems they sent their finest warriors off to bring back the cup from which their god drank. Apparently, the cup had magical qualities and the one who drank from it would become immortal.’ He waited for his grandson, who was listening intently, to nod before carrying on. ‘I do not think my soldiers will find it in time for me. No, I shall find my place alongside Genghis on the steppe. I have already dispatched your cousin, Kamala, to prepare and guard the ordos .’ It was a reference to the ceremonial resting place made of yellow felt.
    At the mention of his cousin’s name, Temur stiffened almost against his will. His reaction did not escape the Great Khan’s eye.
    ‘Do not worry,