At night round the fires the Tartars made merry, for they had strong drink in many skin bottles, and Aimery was left to his own cold meditations.

If he had had any hope, it was gone now, for the escort made it clear that he was their prisoner Judging from the chart of the Genoese, they were not following any road to Cambaluc, and the sight of the sky told him that they were circling round to the south.

The few Tartar words he had learned were not enough to communicate with them, and in any case it was clear that they would take no orders from him.

He was trapped like a bird in the fowler's hands.

Escape was folly, for in an hour their swift horses would have ridden him down.