With not a single tourist in sight, the atmosphere was magical as they took in the full splendor of the majestic temple. Alex helped Sam up the steps through the double wooden doors that stood wide open. A young monk child, roughly around ten years old who had been tending to the shrine’s flowers and candles in the center of the room, jumped up and rushed toward them. His friendly open face beamed with excitement as he greeted them in perfect English with tiny folded hands under his chin.
“Good morning Sir. Madam. Can I give you each a candle?” Rushing back to the shrine to fetch it before they had a chance to answer him.
They didn’t have the heart to disappoint the enthused child by declining the candles so, with a smile, accepted his gracious offering.
“Thank you, young man,” Sam answered. “How old are you?”
The boy answered politely. “Nine, Sir. And you?”
Alex giggled, ready to dismiss him and get on with finding someone who could translate the scroll but Sam patiently answered, “Thirty-four and she’s twenty-eight.”
“That’s old,” the friendly boy replied innocently.
“You think so?” Sam continued happily.
“Yes. You are already limping.”
Sam burst out laughing. “You’re right. I should take better care of myself. What about her though? You think she’s old?”
“Oh stop it,” Alex cut in before the boy could answer and threw Sam a stern look. “You’re only as old as you feel and I feel very young.”
“You sound like my grandfather. He speaks like that too,” the boy cheekily answered back which drove Sam to chuckles.
Alex was less amused. “And where is this wise grandfather of yours, young man? Is he around? We need his help.”
The boy didn’t hesitate. “Come. Follow me. He’s not very busy today. He is the wisest man you will ever meet. He will change your life forever,” the boy said confidently.
They followed the energetic young boy outside and around the back of the temple. A narrow path between tall fruit trees and vegetable patches eventually brought them to a conservative looking wooden house next to a lily pad pond.
“Wait here,” the boy instructed and disappeared into the house.
Several minutes later an elderly monk appeared. It was easy to see they were related. He had the same friendly open face as the boy, and though decades older, shared as much energy and enthusiasm for their surprise visitors.
Alex and Sam instantly bowed and greeted him to which he appreciatively responded. At his side, the young boy waited excitedly.
“Good morning, Venerable Sir,” Alex spoke. “I am Alex Hunt, and this is Sam Quinn. We are British Archaeologists and have acquired an ancient scroll which we need to have translated. We were hopeful that you might be able to assist us, please?”
The boy’s grandfather folded his hands behind his back and sized them up and down. What seemed like an hour of uncomfortable, silent surveillance, he finally spoke.
“Please come in,” and turned back into the house.
The young boy’s eyes lit up like fireworks and grabbed Sam’s hand pulling him excitedly into his grandfather’s house.
Inside, the home was cozy and very welcoming. Not at all what they expected. Though small, it was open and flowed smoothly. They were offered to take a seat on proper chairs, much to Sam’s relief who desperately needed to rest his leg, and moments later the young boy plopped a tray with fresh tea in front of them.
“Can you show me the scroll, please,” the monk asked.
“Well, Sir, it’s a photograph of the scroll. We weren’t permitted to remove it from the monastery where it’s at,” Alex answered pulling it from the brown envelope in her backpack.
The monk nodded in acceptance and asked her to put it on the table. It wasn’t considered appropriate for a monk to directly receive anything from a female.
He took several minutes to inspect the photographs, looking up at Alex and Sam multiple times in between as if to seek reassurance that they are trustworthy. His gentle voice instructed his grandson to do something who promptly jumped up and disappeared into the other room. Moments later the boy excitedly returned with an enormous parcel that made him look even smaller than his nine-year-old frame. It wasn’t the first time Sam and Alex had seen a package like this one. They had seen it at the Oudong temple in Cambodia when they first arrived at the mountain shrine to inspect the crime scene. Alex felt her heart beating out of her chest. If this monk had the same sacred book with gold ink, then they were most definitely leaving there with something worthwhile. Could it be this boy’s grandfather would be able to translate the scroll? She could hardly contain her excitement and squeezed her hands between her knees. Sam exchanged an equally excited look as they watched the monk untie the bound book and flip several banana leaf pages over before stopping somewhere in the middle of the book.
The boy hurriedly moved the tea tray to a nearby table and helped his grandfather place the open book in the center of the coffee table. Alex and Sam leaned over to take a closer look. The writing on the pages was identical to that of the scroll.
Alex gasped in excitement and knelt next to the table. “No way! This is it! It’s identical,” comparing the photo to the banana leaf page.
“I told you my grandfather was the wisest man on earth,” the boy said proudly.
“Indeed you did, young man,” Sam said patting the boy’s shaven head. Something tells me you are fast becoming as wise a man as your grandfather.”
Undeterred by the camaraderie taking place next to her, she looked up at the monk.
“Sir. Are you able to please tell us what the scroll says? We need to know what is written here. We would be most appreciative.”
Something in the older monk’s demeanor had changed. He was no long suspicious of them. Instead, he grinned broadly and sat forward in his chair.
“But of course! If my great Patriarch brother trusted you enough to show you the scroll, then I will do anything I can to help you.”
A stunned Alex looked at him. “How did you know who showed it to us?”
“My dear British Archaeologist. I wasn’t born yesterday. There is only one brother in the entire world that holds this scroll. Many of the holy Buddha’s teachings were written in the same language and shared across the world, but this scroll was written with one purpose.”
Alex couldn’t believe her ears. She knew this was to become the breakthrough in their hunt for the Golden Urn. Alex could barely breathe as she sat waiting in anticipation for him to speak. Mesmerized by the events unfolding before her, she grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed tight, catching the boy’s attention.
“Are you married?” the boy asked.
Alex, whose gaze was fixed on the older man’s lips embarrassingly snatched her hand back. She wasn’t aware that she had been holding Sam’s hand. “No,” she blurted out. “We are very old friends.”
The boy looked even more puzzled. “Friends don’t hold hands,” he said cheekily.
Sam looked at the boy and smiled mischievously.
“Perhaps you can advise me on how I would go about changing that?” Sam asked the boy as he flashed Alex a teasing smile.
Alex blushed bright red and sat back down on her chair. Ignoring Sam’s feeble conversation with the boy she shuffled uncomfortably.
“Ahem. Sir, please continue. What is written in the scroll?”
The monk smiled; his eyes sparkling like diamonds. “Yield to your heart, Miss. It will bring you great joy in life.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Sam chirped.
Alex jumped up; annoyed at the situation and walked around stopping behind her chair. “Really Sam?” she asked sarcastically. “We don’t really have time for this, you know? Stop your silly games and let’s get on with it please?”
The boy and his grandfather giggled; entirely amused by Alex scolding Sam.
“Ok, Ok. I’ll back off; for now.”
Sam threw his hands in the air, giv
ing the boy a wink. “Sir,” he continued with a straight face, “please do continue. This matter is of great importance to my friend here, and we could really do with your help to resolve the issue.”
The monk looked up at Alex who by now, was greatly frustrated.
“There were an elite few scribes in the world who were skilled to write like this. The honor was passed down by Royal elders, and scribes were hand selected by the ranking monk. The skill was strictly taught from scribe to scribe in closed teaching sessions. Most scrolls were used for reverent teachings; recording holy prayers and historical events; mostly on banana leaves. But this scroll is different. The leaves of the Buong tree preserved any writings longer than the banana leaves. It was reserved for communications only between the kings so this is a very important scroll. You can also see the symbol here,” pointing to a small triangle in the top corner. “This was the unique signature of the Royal scribe.”
Alex hastened around her chair and knelt next to the table to get a better look.
“What does it say?” she urged.
“It is a map.”
Alex caught her breath in her throat. “A map! To where?”
“They were instructions to the Royal family on where to hide the sacred Golden Urn.”
“You mean to say that the rumors are true? The Urn that was stolen last month was in fact counterfeit?” Alex exclaimed and shot a surprised look at Sam who, by now, was also on the edge of his seat.
The monk nodded.
“But why? I don’t understand, Sir. Why would they use a counterfeit Urn and hide the original one?
“Simple. For the very reason it now got stolen,” the elder answered. “To keep it safe and protected so it can be passed down through the Royal family.”
“They know? The king knows this?” Alex said softly.
“But of course, my dear. He would not be a king worthy of his honor if he didn’t guard this secret with his life. Unfortunately, when the Khmer Rouge infiltrated Cambodia, the second part of the scroll perished in a fire when they burnt down the Royal Palace.”
Sam, who had been quietly listening, cut in, “There was a second part of the scroll. Of course! It all makes sense now. That’s why they hired us. With the second scroll destroyed the authentic Urn will be lost forever unless we find it.”
Alex leaned back in her chair to contemplate the Urn’s fate. She jumped up and started pacing the room.
“We need to find it, that’s all. If we have the first scroll, we might be able to figure out the rest. Please, sir. What exactly does it say?”
The monk sat forward and picked up the photograph.
Where the three kings sleep
the guardian of the ancient world sits at their feet.
Follow the teaching to where the sun’s rays meet,
Beware the serpent’s tongue! It is a trap. Steer clear
and follow the map.
The fire is your ally it will light the way
keep to the centre until you reach the clay
The monk placed the photograph back on the table and folded his hands in his lap.
Alex stopped pacing. “That’s it? There’s nothing else?” Alex asked to which the monk merely nodded and smiled.
Alex looked questioningly at Sam.
“Don’t look at me for answers. It seems we have our work cut out for us,” Sam said.
Alex started pacing the room again; chewing her thumbnail. “It could be anywhere. Where would we even start?”
The monk got up and walked over to her. “Be still and let your heart show you the way. Something tells me you will find what you seek when you stop thinking.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Alex replied. “We are most grateful. We will do our best to honor the king in our pursuit. Who knows? We might join you again soon for another cup of tea.”
Sam got up and limped across the room to join them. The monk whispered something to the boy who left the room and promptly returned handing his grandfather an odd looking cane. The monk looked at Sam and handed him the walking stick.
“A wise man will always escape death, but a foolish man goes at it unprepared.”
In that moment, Sam and Alex knew the man’s wisdom far exceeded the obvious. Somehow he knew they were under threat and humbly accepted his gift.
Sam turned to the boy and placed his hands on his shoulder. “And you, young man, were entirely correct. Your grandfather is indeed the wisest man on earth. Make sure you follow his every word so you can inherit some of his wisdom, ok? Thank you for your help.”
The boy beamed with pride and satisfaction.
“Yes. Thank you indeed, little man, “Alex added.
Chapter Eleven
Phnom Penh, Cambodia
The trip back to their hotel in Phnom Penh was entirely dominated by discussions over the Golden Urn and the urgency around finding the bona fide one. Alex and Sam recited the scroll’s riddle over and over in an attempt to decipher the clues. Excitement poured from every cell in Alex’s body. Even while Sam nodded off from the painkillers, Alex continued to repeat the riddle out loud, but nothing sounded even vaguely familiar as to where they should start.
They arrived back at the hotel well into the evening and agreed to meet up for a late dinner to continue working on the clues. The hotel restaurant had already closed for the night, so they followed the main road along the river to a nearby local restaurant. Sam found his cane to be a welcome aid, inspecting it properly for the first time when they sat down at their table.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like this,” he commented. “It is most unusual, don’t you think?”
Alex took the walking stick and inspected the odd-looking head of the dragon handle. It was entirely black apart from the gold dragon’s tail that was coiled around the rod.
“Quite remarkable indeed. Now let’s get back to business, shall we?” handing the cane back to Sam and flipping open her laptop. “Let’s start at the beginning. The first line read ‘Where the three kings sleep’.”
Her fingers frantically danced over the keyboard as she searched for possible locations.
“Bloody hell! There were so many kings. It could be any of them,” she said annoyingly.
“Where would they ‘sleep’? In the Royal Palace perhaps?” Sam asked.
“Their bedrooms? But they’re all dead,” Alex replied.
“Their graves! Get it? They’re asleep. In their graves,” Sam yelled across the table. “Where were the kings buried when they died? Look for a Royal graveyard or something.”
“Brilliant!” Alex hit the keys again before slumping disappointingly back in her chair. “None of them were buried. They didn’t believe in burials. They were all cremated.”
Sam pondered as he stuck a mouthful of noodles in his mouth. “Ok, so where were their ashes strewn?”
Alex turned to google again. “All over the place, it seems. They were placed in stupas for the people to worship at.”
“So in shrines, right?”
“Yup. Shrines and there are many all over Cambodia.”
“Ok, but Phnom Penh was the capital city, so it’s fair to say it’s somewhere here. How many stupas with king’s ashes are around the city?”
“No way!!!” Alex shouted. “I don’t believe it!”
“What? What is it?” Sam called watching as Alex’s fingers moved faster over the keys. “WHAT? Speak up, woman.”
“We were right there Sam! It’s the Oudong temple! It had three stupas, remember? Each stupa holds the ashes of a king. Look here,” turning the laptop sideways so Sam could see better.
“It says here, the first stupa is the North-Western one called Damrei Sam Poan and was built by king Chey Chetha II who ruled from1618 to 1626. He built it for the ashes of his predecessor, king Soriyopor, who was the founder of Oudong.
The second stupa is Ang Doung. This was king Norodom’s father. This stupa was built by him in 1891 and houses the ashes of king Ang Duong who ruled from 1845
to 1859. The South-Eastern of the three stupas is Mak Proum which is the funeral stupa of king Monivong who ruled from 1927 to 1941.”
“That certainly fits the dates perfectly. You’re brilliant Alex Hunt! You know that?” an impressed Sam called out. “Now we just have to figure out where the sun’s rays meet.”
“Sunrise or sunset and ‘meets’ with what?” Alex responded taking a bite of food for the first time that evening.
“Let’s go there first thing tomorrow morning and have a look around. The next part of the clue is ‘the guardian of the ancient world sits at their feet’. If we can figure out who the guardian of the ancient world is and at whose feet he is sitting, it might somehow bring us one step closer to finding the place where the sun’s rays meet. I think this calls for a toast, don’t you?” a cheery Sam announced as he called the waiter over.
Alex closed her laptop and finished her meal; unable to stop smiling or hide her excitement. The restaurant was completely empty and was close to midnight by now.
“We should probably get back to the hotel and get some sleep. Tomorrow might be a busy day,” Alex said. “Besides. I don’t think it would be wise to drink while medicated. The mere thought of having to carry you is utterly daunting,” she joked.
They were both in high spirits. It was the first taste of success since they arrived in Cambodia. Alex shuffled excitedly on the chair.
“Do you realize how incredible it would be when we discover the original Golden Urn? Something no one even knew existed? We will go down in the history books, Sam!”
“I can see the headlines — Renowned Archaeologists discover ancient lost Golden Urn!” Sam played along as they got to their car.
Moments later Alex’s shrill screams echoed through the dark as two masked men picked her up and pulled her into a black van. Before Sam could stop them, he felt the painful blow to the back of his head seconds before everything went black.
ALEX HUNT and The Golden Urn_An Archaeological Adventure Thriller Page 11
