Portrait of an Emperor
the distant purple rim. At last a shout went up. A huge snake was winding over the desert. As it glided nearer they could make out the details of a mighty caravan, camels too numerous to count that blurred off into the distance. Each camel was so heavily laden it could scarcely stagger under its burden. Duke Bonimet had had little time to absorb wisdom, so he was not suspicious of Chang Shou-kuei who came bearing gifts. The caravan that was approaching surpassed in wealth any that ever crossed the famed Silk Road of Wu Ti. When all the bounty had been set out before Duke Bonimet, it was a display the like of which he had never beheld in all the days of his being. Rugs and tapestries, rich brocades, fragrant with jasmine, sandalwood and musk. Perfumes and spices and statuettes as cold and white as snow upon Tai Shan. Carved ivory figurines; plates and goblets, crystal clear, of glowing yellow glass that reflected the warmth of the sun. Paintings on bamboo, on bricks of clay, and on strips of silk. Clazed tiles with floral designs. Carved jade horses and citrus fruit. Green stone statuettes of crouching greyhounds. Rare potteries from the Hsia dynasty, of flower petal design. Fragile vases and tea bowls. A treasury of money, including cowrie shells, the oldest form of currency in China, used for thousands of years before the Chou dynasty. Gold and silver coins that tinkled and echoed sweetest music to the ears of Duke Bonimet as they piled on the floor of his palace till they formed a small mountain of fabulous worth. Chang Shou-kuei must have stripped his kingdom to appease the Gen-
