Chou Wei placed his cup of tea carefully on a nearby table.
. . "The summer palace at Shang-tu served as the center of a new town that Khubilai created some two hundred miles north of the winter capitol in Peking. It was surrounded on all sides by mountains and was much cooler in the summertime than his winter palace. In his fictional verse, the poet Coleridge gave a very fanciful description of the grandeur of the Great Khan's palace and, in truth, it was no exaggeration. The building was in fact splendid beyond belief. It was constructed of beautiful marble and polished woods. Innumerable glazed tiles decorated the walls and roof. Marco Polo himself was impressed with the magnificent images painted throughout the halls and passages. Everywhere he looked there were illustrations of beasts, birds, trees, and flowers. The Emperor had caused this summer residence to be erected in the open country as preferred by the Mongol people. But, in most ways, Shang-tu was a true work of Chinese art. In addition to the spectacular marble edifice, a magnificent park was located nearby and enclosed by sixteen miles of walls. Within this enclosure grew an abundance of trees and herbage of many varieties. Lush meadows were watered by streams and rivulets throughout. The park was filled with tame deer and all manner of game for the Emperor's favorite pastime of hunting. Many exotic species of birds made the forests their home. Swans and other aquatic fowl swam in the numerous ponds created within the park and the ponds themselves were stocked with fish of many different varieties to supply the Great Khan's table. Weekly the Emperor would travel through the towering forests as he inspected or hunted the ever-changing assemblage of wildlife. Khubilai would often lead a large contingent of hunting parties pursuing the game with hawks and falcons or using swift cheetahs and leopards that could be loosed to quickly bring down game.
. . "At the heart of the park was a royal pavilion of bamboo made with great gilded columns topped by carved dragons. This splendorous building was the scene of numerous pomp and royal affairs of the court. As Coleridge wrote, Xanadu did indeed have a 'stately pleasure dome'.
. . "When his majesty went hunting in the park it was under circumstances unlike traditional nomad Mongol hunts. Khubilai was accompanied by hundreds of falconers who loosed the hawks and gerfalcons in search of game. For deer, the Great Khan hunted with hundreds of packs of large dogs and well-trained cheetahs and lynxes. Even more unusual was Khubilai's use of tigers. They were handsome, powerful beasts with stripes of black and orange and white. They were occasionally used to bring down boar, wild oxen and other large game. Marco Polo observed that the tigers were trained to live alongside small dogs that served as companions to the ferocious beasts in an effort to keep them somewhat docile. Otherwise the tigers would become so dangerous at the sight of game, it would be impossible to keep them under the necessary restraint."
. . My host paused in his narrative to inquire whether I needed more tea. I declined his offer for I was eager for him to continue. He poured himself another cup of the aromatic brew, then resumed his story.
. . "Khubilai occupied this lavish summer residence for three months of each year -- June, July and August. On the twenty- eighth day of the moon in the last of these months, the Khan would journey south to the winter palace in Peking. It is during the summer months in Shang-tu, however, that our story takes place.
. . My host shifted his posture slightly and from a small tray, selected another pastry on which he nibbled from time to time.
. . "History tells us," he continued, "that Emperor Khan had four legitimate wives who served as equal Empresses of his empire and who gave him twenty-two sons as heirs. His majesty also sired twenty-five sons by his concubines. Little or no mention was made of the number of daughters he fathered since females in the Mongol society were considered to be of lesser stature than sons. But it is known that among the new born was a baby girl who was named Xiang Li. Xiang's mother was one of the handsome, fair- skinned maidens selected every two years from a race of Turkic people called Ungrat. These young concubines were chosen for their grace and comely appearance to serve at the pleasure of the court. It is said that Xiang Li was a radiant child from birth, as delicately beautiful as a lotus blossom. It was not suprising that her guileless appearance softened the heart of the Great Khan to the point where she soon became favored over most all other members of his large family. Khubilai named her his "Little Princess." By age fourteen Xiang Li had matured into the loveliest of all maidens in the empire. She frequently wore fine- spun rose-tinted gowns that highlighted the golden peach colors of her skin. Her smooth, lustrous black hair was often bound at the top by a silver headdress. Her almond eyes were quick to fill with humor and good spirit and her lilting voice was described as being as light and musical as the golden bells that sounded in the slightest breezes through the palace courtyards.
. . Each morning, the young girl presented herself before the Great Khan as he took his morning meal, a rare privilege accorded for a maiden. The doting Princess would inquire after her father's health, then delight him with humorous gossip and news of those who served in his court. But she was most animated when describing the antics of the animals that dwelled in her father's forest. The Princess had an insatiable curiosity about the wildlife and was often seen walking through the forests with only a single guide or two to protect her. Tame deer would approach as she fed them tasty tidbits of nuts and fresh berries from the Khan's private gardens. But the animals that impressed the Princess most were the magnificent hunting tigers that were kept safely confined in their bamboo cages. She would sit near them for long periods of time, marveling at their size and great strength and how the companionable dogs would live and play amongst them to help placate the tiger's savage instincts."
. . Chou Wei paused in his narrative as a look of melancholy passed over his face. I thought he might be envisioning a picture of the Princess strolling through the large forests with the innocence and excitement of the young. Again my host resumed his tale.
. . "She was loved by most who served the great Khan, even by the general Chinese populace in spite of the fact that she was the daughter of a Mongol concubine. Yet the Princess did have enemies in the palace court; mostly those of her father's sons who were sensitive to the Khan's inordinate devotion to their stepsister. As the rightful heirs to the throne, they felt their father's loyalty should have been accorded them instead. Most of the Khan's sons remained quiet on the issue knowing their father's great affection for the girl. But Princess Li's most menacing enemy was one of the Khan's four Mongol wives. I cannot tell you the Empress' name for it is unknown. All mention of her was forever stricken from existing written court records and journals. It is known she was a jealous, spiteful woman who feared that a girl born of a lowly concubine might eventually gain such favor with the Khan as to replace her as one of Khubilai's exalted court personages.
. . "As you can imagine, this woman's hateful spite soon begat an insidious plot against the young girl. Her plan became reality near the end of August as the court readied themselves for the return journey south to the winter palace. Knowing of the young girl's fondness for the Khan's noble hunting tigers, the scheming Empress sent an intriguing message to Xiang Li. In her note, she described a particularly magnificent striped beast that would arrive the following day from East India. She intimated that the tiger would no doubt become her father's most prized new hunting animal and if the young Princess wished to hear more details the Empress would be happy to receive her in her private quarters. Of course, Xiang Li was eager to attend and quickly made her way to the luxurious quarters of her mother Empress.
. . Upon gaining audience, the girl was told of the splendid animal but that it was not yet trained with the small dogs. Therefore it was to be contained within a strong bamboo enclosure placed near the grand pavilion at the center of the forest. This would give the beast a little time to acclimatize itself to its new surroundings. Xiang Li was told she could be among the very first to view the animal -- even before the Great Khan himself. The Empress gave the young girl careful directions as to the location of the cage near the grand pavilion. She instructed Princess Li to arrive just prior to the noon hour the following day when all would be ready. The young girl was cautioned to keep well away because the animal was still wild and ferocious. The Empress added, however, that the Princess need not fear for her safety. The bamboo enclosure would be tightly secured by a strong, reinforced latch. Xiang Li was to tell no one of her plans, not even her father, for he might prevent her from going. Of course this warning fueled an even more intense desire for the Little Princess and she quickly left to arrange her plans for the following day.
. . Chou Wei paused to take another measured sip of tea and a small bite of pastry then went on with his ancient tale.
. . "As soon as Princess Li departed," he said, "the jealous Empress summoned a devoted and faithful servant. She instructed him to enlist a group of his most able subordinates. They were to select one of the Great Khan's largest, most ferocious new tigers and transport it within its bamboo cage to the predetermined location near the pavilion in the forest. The servant was ordered to drug the huge cat so it would remain docile until late the following morning. The Empress also directed the man to make sure the latch to the cage was altered until only the slightest push would allow the door to spring open. The villainous woman pressed a large quantity of gold coins into the servant's hands as he vowed to carry out her wishes.
. . "The very next morning, Xiang Li met with her father as usual but made no mention of her plans. Khubilai told her he would be gone most of the day on a small hunting trip.
. . "As the noon hour of that fateful day drew near, the young Princess summoned Kao Hsing, her closest friend and guide. She told him of the message she had received from the Empress. With great excitement, the couple headed into the forest, carefully following the directions given. Shortly before the noon sun, they came upon the cage containing the tiger. The huge cat was still drowsy but slowly recovering from the debilitating drugs it had received earlier that morning. With hushed voices Xiang Li and her friend marveled as the magnificent animal began pacing back and forth on unsteady feet in its cage. The Princess quietly moved closer for a better look. Suddenly the tiger became aware of the couple. Its eyes focused on the intruders and with a snarling rush of anger instinctively jumped against the cage and its door. The weakened latch immediately fell loose allowing the wild animal to escape. Frightened, Kao Hsing quickly stepped in front of the Princess told her to run to safety. The great beast fell upon the hapless guide, snapping bones and inflicting great injury with a quick bite of its large jaws. The tiger then caught sight of the young Princess running into the forest. With a bounding leap, the animal quickly pounced upon young girl, its powerful claws and razor sharp teeth tearing savagely at her flesh. The girl's terrified screams echoed throughout the woodlands. Within moments Xiang Li's cries were stilled forever."
. . Again Chou Wei's narrative came to a sudden halt. I was shocked as he, imagining the horrific scene of the fear-stricken Princess slaughtered by the ferocious animal. I looked up and could detect tears in Chou Wei's grief-stricken eyes. After a slight moment the old man regained his composure and continued his sad narrative.
. . "By chance, the Great Khan's hunting party was passing through a nearby grove when they heard the terrified screams of the girl and quickly headed in that direction. Khubilai was aghast as he came upon the scene of carnage. He immediately ordered his spear hunters to bring the great beast down, slaying it as it hunkered down near the body of the girl.
. . "In shocked disbelief, Khubilai viewed the remains of his Little Princess. The rose-colored gown she wore was in tatters and covered with her blood. At this point, the girl's guide, Kao Hsing, staggered into the clearing where the still body of the Princess lay. Though he, too, had received deadly injuries, he kneeled beside his friend and began to wail. The angry Khan demanded to know how the tiger had escaped from its cage to this place in the forest. The faithful guide managed to tell his Lord of the bamboo cage near the pavilion and how it was the Empress who had directed them to the location. Khubilai was dumbfounded and his rage increased. The badly wounded young man then collapsed from his wounds, his lifeless body falling across that of his beloved companion. A few of the Khan's hunters left to examine the cage and reported back moments later that the latch been intentionally tampered with, allowing the animal to easily escape.
. . "The Khan was further enraged by this wanton act of treachery inflicted by the scheming Empress. He ordered his daughter's body and that of her guide be placed within the Khan's hunting carriage. Slowly and with heavy hearts the Emperor and his hunting party made their way back to the palace.
. . On arrival, the Mongol ruler ordered twenty of his strongest guards to the Empress' palace demanding she appear before him without delay. As she was led in before the Khan's throne, she was weeping and professing her innocence. But Khubilai knew of his wife's jealous motives toward his daughter and ordered that the Empress be imprisoned until punishment could be determined. As the treacherous woman was led out of his sight, the Khan summoned his most able advisers and wisest magicians. Revenge would be enacted for Xiang Li's tragic end, but he dared not inflict death upon his Mongol wife by his own hand for fear of alienating his own people.
. . "While pondering his decision, Khubilai ordered others to prepare a private funeral service for his beloved Xiang Li to which only he would attend. Six servants, pledged to secrecy upon penalty of death, would place her body in a marble coffin to be buried in an unmarked and concealed location in the very forest she loved so well.
. . "Needless to say, the news of the tragedy quickly spread throughout the palace. When told of her daughter's death, Xiang Li's mother collapsed where she stood and, within days, she, too, died of a broken heart.
. . "Meanwhile, Khubilai met with his advisors to discuss how best to exact retribution. Once decided, the Emperor then issued an official edict that was spread to all the peoples of his great kingdom. In his decree, the Empress was ordered to be confined alone within the great pavilion with only a few meager provisions to sustain her while she pondered her fate. A thousand workers were commanded to build an earthen berm that would surround the pavilion at a distance of forty feet. Upon this circular berm the workers would erect a strong bamboo fence of at least twelve feet in height. Within this enclosure the Khan would let loose several of his man-eating tigers, untethered, to roam at will. In this way, the Khan declared, the Empress can elect to choose her own punishment -- that of eventual starvation or by facing the menacing wrath of the very animals used in her treacherous act."
. . Chou Wei leaned forward as he emphasized his next words.
. . "The commands of the Khan were swift and exacting: Henceforth the name of the Empress shall never be uttered; that all written historic records, journals or references, no matter how small or insignificant, be forbidden from ever mentioning her name or her deeds. It was to be considered as supreme law that the evil Empress had never existed.
. . The Great Khan's edict also promised that the spirit of the tiger, the instrument by which his loving daughter perished, would descend to wreak a terrible vengeance on all who disobeyed his command. Any offending law breaker would be immediately executed, including his entire family and all living relatives to as far back as three generations. To underscore the importance of his edict, the Khan commissioned his artists to create a symbol of terror that all subjects could see and be reminded of the terrible punishment that would befall anyone who disobeyed his decree. A glass bottle of exquisite design was fashioned and within it, the Great Khan's magicians instilled the vicious essence of the man-eating tiger animal. The bottle was then placed in a specially constructed marble grotto near the palace for all to see."
. . The old shopkeeper threw me a meaningful glance. "As you can probably guess, the Khan's symbolic bottle became known as the tiger bottle -- the very same bottle you see in my shop. As far as anyone knows the seal on the bottle has never been broken. We are led, therefore, to assume that the tiger's spirit still dwells within it as a continuous reminder of the Khan's decree. It is for that reason the tiger bottle remains in my possession for safekeeping."
. . With his story now completed, Chou Wei rose to his feet and returned our cups and pastries to his cupboard. I was at a loss for words as I pondered the remarkable circumstances that doomed those described in this ancient legend. My Chinese host turned from the cupboard and regarded me in a sober manner.
. . "There is a bittersweet irony to this whole sad affair. A series of events occurred which we know affected the Khan deeply and would haunt him for the rest of his days. The evil Empress was slain by the tigers as she tried to escape. Shortly thereafter, Chabi, Khubilai's favorite wife and invaluable adviser for over forty years, died in 1281. The Khan's favorite son, Chen-Chin, died a few yers later. But perhaps the most devastating blow of all was when Khubilai finally discovered that Xiang Li, his loving "Little Princess," was not born of his seed but rather was the true legitimate daughter of a lowly "gentleman- painter", one who served in the summer palace and who was unjustly executed for purportedly insulting the Emperor."
. . The old man's eyes looked down to the floor. His voice was almost imperceptible as he added, "As you can guess, the father of the girl was my ancestor, Chou Wei.
. . "All of these events proved to be more than The Great Khan could bear. He became derelict in his duties and his once great powers began to diminish. He began drinking heavily and eating voraciously, his spirit broken and in constant sorrow. Khubilai, the Great Khan, finally died a forlorn and broken man in 1294 at the age of seventy-nine."
. . I stared at the old man as I realized how, like a tapestry, the tragic reality of fate was interwoven into the lives of those who perished at the hands of one man's quest for world domination. Bitter infamy was the only heritage bequeathed by the Khan. I could understand the deep feelings expressed by my host. It must have pained him terribly. Xiang Li, the beautiful young Princess, although many generations removed, was akin to being his own granddaughter.
. . I humbly expressed my thanks to the old man. I could think of no adequate words of apology so I followed quietly as he made his way out of the apartment to the front of his antiquities shop. He unlocked the door and held it open, causing the silver bells to chime once more but, this time, with a refrain of deep sorrow. As I was about to leave, the old man stayed my arm and looked at me with grave concern.
. . "Before you leave I must again caution you of the Khan's decree: anyone who sets down the details of this ancient story shall surely suffer the wrath of the tiger's spirit."
. . A small smile appeared on his face. "That is, of course, if the story is true. It may also be only an imaginary fable. I shall let you decide for yourself which it is," he said, as he closed the door, locking it firmly behind him.
. . Twilight had already descended and the deep shadows of night had closed around me. Still, I stood for another moment, staring with unseeing eyes at the door behind which sat the tiger in the bottle.
. . As I turned to leave, I was surprised to discover a carriage and driver waiting patiently to transport me back to my hotel. I accepted at once and within minutes was back within my own hotel suite.
. . For an hour or so, I lay on the bed unable to rid my mind of the striking images that swirled through my thoughts. I kept picturing the fates that befell Khubilai Khan, Xiang Li, Chou Wei, the Empress and others who served and suffered under the rule of China's mightiest Emperor. I must have fallen asleep soon thereafter for I remained in a comatose state until late afternoon of the following day.
. . I wish I could declare that the events of the ancient tale began to fade from memory but they would not. With great ease I could clearly recall every detail the old Chinese shopkeeper had told me. Over the following two weeks, and ignoring Chou Wei's words of caution, I proceeded to set down every minute detail of this fascinating story.
. . The words you are now reading will be the final additions to my manuscript. In the morning I shall send it off to a publisher friend of mine in London.
. . I am having second thoughts, though. A few days ago I experienced a bizarre set of circumstances that gave me pause to reconsider my actions. Whenever I left my room, I could feel eyes watching my every move but could detect no one. And in quiet moments, such as those in my hotel room now, I imagined that I heard short harsh coughs and a threatening snarl of a wild animal and I am reminded of the Great Khan's edict. Several times a day, I check through every room in my suite. I have even become extremely wary when opening my hotel door for fear I shall catch sight of a dangerous intruder in the hallway. But in every case, I have seen nothing out of the ordinary. At first I dismissed the extraordinary events as a simple case of nervousness. Until now.
. . Tonight, the feeling of being pursued is stronger than ever. Again I hear the awful sounds of an animal's low growl and I am afraid. . . .

. . (from Reuters News, London)
. . The headlines on the front pages of the Hong Kong Courier Thursday expressed in graphic horror the details surrounding the strange death of an unidentified man whose horribly mutilated body was found by police in an unoccupied room of a luxurious downtown hotel. From blood stains detected in the hallway, authorities surmise that the man's body had been dragged or carried to the room in which it was discovered. Police officials at the scene of the grisly slaying said numerous large biting wounds were inflicted upon the man's body. It was also slashed repeatedly beyond recognition, presumably by a powerful assailant using extremely sharp knives. Officials were at a loss to explain what caused the bite marks other than to declare that "they appeared to be those of a large animal."
. . Detectives are hopeful that scraps of information left at the scene might soon help them determine the cause of the mysterious homicide. Scattered pieces of handwritten pages, such as those of a detailed journal, were found strewn throughout the crime scene. Authorities are now painstakingly piecing together hundreds of tattered scraps of paper in hopes that the restored manuscript might help identify the man or that of his assailant.
. . Hong Kong authorities have labeled the horrible death as "one of the most mysterious we have ever encountered!" Though the attack was particularly vicious, hotel witnesses told police that, outside of a brief cry for help sometime during the night, they heard nothing that seemed out of the ordinary . . . .