Adventure Magazine Cover — page 129: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

128 V CATHAY “GREAT lords, counts, knights, burgesses and ladies! Attend ye, dispose your- selves to listen. Never have your ears been greeted by such a tale as this. Never have soldiers, priests, sailors or astrologers breathed such a romance as this true recital. “‘Signort, ladies; no man hath so much knowledge and experience of the divers parts of the world—and especially that of Cathay—as hath Messer Ruy de Gonzales Clavijo!”’ The speaker, broad as he was tall, black- bearded and mellow of voice, bowed very low, sweeping the heron plume of his cap across the floor of the library of the Conta- rini Palace. His enormous cloak of Arme- nian velvet vied in color with his scarlet doublet of Persian. silk. “T am Messer Ruy de Gonzales Clavijo,” he concluded. In the library were gathered the leading spirits among the guests. Contarini with his mistress beside him sat directly before the speaker. Close behind him the pale face of Soranzi, the merchant, gleamed in the candle-light. A hundred years ago Marco Polo had completed his book. Discredited at first, it had been confirmed to great extent by wan- dering Franciscan monks. It was known in Europe that Cathay existed somewhere at the eastern end of the world—this side of the Sea of Darkness. Venetian galleys were engaged in trade with Persia and Arabia, at Ormuz. Con- tinued tidings of the vast resources of silk, spices and gems in China and India came in. The door of the farther East had been half- opened. Venice was agog with rumors of the riches of the Indies and the Pope had ~ more than once sent emissaries to find the land of Prester John. “Consider, my lord—” Clavijo bowed to Contarini—“‘the marvel that I have seen. It is no less than a city of brazen walls, in the desert where a hundred caravan routes meet. It lies behind the lofty mountains which are a natural wall beyond the last of the three seas—A®gean, Mormaior and the Dead Sea that is of salt, as you know.” The listeners nodded. Venetians to the heart, they knew the geography of the Black Adventure \ Sea and something of the Caspian. Clavijo, the Spaniard, went on. ‘Seven years ago, my lord, did Ser Clavijo set out humbly from Constantinople over the perilous waters of Mormaior where no ships may have iron in them, lest the devil’s loadstone that is at the bottom of the sea should draw out nails and braces and every soul perish.” Contarini shrugged. He did not set much store by the superstitions of the sea. Clavijo pointed to the map on the silver globe beside him. “Tt was not the least of the marvels, my lord, that Ser.Clavijo attained to the farther shore of this sea where. the spirits of the waste are said to lie in wait for travelers. Aye, he heard their mutterings in the night, on the desert floor, and in the morning his servant was dead. The natives say that this muttering comes from the sands—the reg ruwan, talking sands. Yet Clavijo makes no doubt that demons are to be met in the waste places. “But beyond here exists a rich and fertile valley. My lord, it may well be that this is no less than the Eden of the Bible. Foras- much as the Bible relates that the three strange kings. came to the birth of Christ, bearing rich gifts of incense and myrrh, it is reasonable to suppose that this legend re- lates to Cathay, which may well be the king- dom of Prester John.” He glanced mildly at his intent audience. A dozen times within the last fortnight had the Spaniard been called upon to tell his story and by now he well knew the phrases that best appealed to the religiously in- clined. As for the ladies ) “The way to this valley is most difficult to encompass; forby bands of Moorish horse- men do swoop upon the unwary. It was one of these bands that came on Clavijo, alone in the desert, and guided him, a pris oner, through the storms of sand that are more fearful than the tempest of the sea. In this way he was taken to the gate in the brazen wall. “Inside that gate he perceived the trees of gold and silver, of which you have heard, and the fountains that run wine more dee licious than the famous Chian. ‘Great jewels are the fruit in these gar- _ dens of the brazen city. The inhabitants are fair of face and speak a Moorish tongue. Alas, your servant Clavijo has not the gift of words to describe all that hesaw. Moreover, : CONC DOOKS. COL