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A section from the journey

Gold for Pepper

The heart of the trade was simple: gold came in, pepper went out. Hoards of Roman coins are still dug up across the south, just where the trade was busiest. And a Tamil poem from the time sings of the ships of the Yavanas churning the river-water, coming with gold and leaving with pepper. The buried coins and the old poem tell the same tale.

We have stood at Muziris and seen it through the eyes of strangers. Now let us look at the trade itself, and put one plain question to it. What went one way, and what came the other?

The answer is short, and you have heard it already. Gold came in. Pepper went out. The black pepper of the southern hills was worth its weight in Roman coin. The West craved it, and would pay in metal. So the ships came laden with gold and wine, and went home laden with pepper and pearls.

Now, how do we know this is not just a fine tale? Because the gold is still here. To this very day, farmers and diggers in the Tamil country and along the western coast turn up hoards of Roman coins — old gold and silver pieces, struck in faraway Roman mints, buried and forgotten in the southern earth.

Think about what a coin is. It cannot boast. It cannot exaggerate. It simply lies in the ground and says: I came here, from far away, long ago. When you find a whole pot of Roman coins in a Tamil field, you are holding the trade in your hand. The poems told the truth.

And the Tamils sang of it too. In the great storehouse of Sangam poetry there is an anthology called the . One of its poems looks straight at this very trade. It paints a picture you can almost see and hear.

The poem shows the fine ships of the Yavanas arriving at the river-port of the Chera. Their coming churns the white foam of the water. They arrive heavy with gold, and they depart heavy with pepper. That is the whole trade in a single living image — foreign ships, white foam, gold in, pepper out — sung by a Tamil poet who watched it happen.

Let me be honest about the words. The Tamil of that poem is old and free for all to use. But trustworthy English of it, made long enough ago to be free in the same way, is hard to find. So I have not put it to you as an exact quotation. I have given you its sense, in plain words, and told you plainly that is what I did.

And one honest note on time, as always in this chapter. The coins and the poem belong to the early centuries of the Common Era, when the trade was busiest. The exact years are scholarly estimates and are still debated. But the meeting of gold and pepper on that white foam — that is as solid as a coin in the palm.

A coin in the ground and a poem in the air say the same true thing in very different ways. Which do you trust more — the thing you can hold, or the thing someone sang? And is it wise, perhaps, to listen to both?

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