by John Burgess
There were times when Nol could say the right thing. He placed his arms around me and I leaned back into his embrace.
‘Husband, you are good to me.’
‘If I’m good, it’s because you bring it out in me.’
‘You flatter me. It is not that way. But how long, how long will you stay with us?’
‘Not long, I’m afraid. After the royal wedding, the prince will return to his army. Sovan and I will go with him. But before long, the campaign will be over. The prince will return to the Capital to live and we’ll be here again too.’
The maid returned to clear the cups. Nol and I pulled away from each other.
The sight of the silver around my neck brought a stunned smile to the girl’s face.
‘It’s quite special, isn’t it?’ I said to her. ‘It must have been very costly....’
Nol shrugged.
It took just an instant for my smile, my peace of mind, to fade. My eyes met his and I could see that he hadn’t paid a thing for it, that it was the rightful property of some woman in the north. More plunder.
I removed it. I spent a moment securing it in a box, then turned back to him. ‘Well, then! I must hear about what has happened with you all of these months.’
He told the story, at some length, though I think leaving out things that would upset me, elaborating on ones I would like, such as the prince’s donation of forty sampots and a month’s supply of firewood to a colony of hermits.
I listened, trying to seem interested, but in fact I could not be.
When he finished, I paused a moment, then said: ‘And our prince...where is his home estate?’
‘It is to the east. It is called the Community of Great Dazzling Prosperity....’
My eyes closed. I took a breath. I suppose that until this point I had held up hope that I had been mistaken.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. Now, this estate, did the campaign take you there?’
‘No. It’s many days’ travel in the other direction from where we’ve been.’
At least there was comfort in that. I began telling Nol what had happened with me and Bopa in the past two years, how the siege had frightened everyone and made life hard but that when it was over things became better. And how one day the palace cook asked for my help in acquiring basics for the kitchen.
Nol cut in: ‘He wanted you to go to market and shop for him?’
‘No, husband,’ I said, though that was of course what I had done at first. ‘To supervise the girls who do the shopping.’
Bopa and Sovan returned just then, each carrying cut pineapple on a stick. ‘Mother does a lot more than that now, father,’ she offered.
I said: ‘Bopa....’
The girl launched into a description of how busy I was on any given day. It was all laid out for Nol right there. I oversaw the purchase of just about everything the prince’s household requires – food, linens, mats, stable straw, spices, cooking pots, chinaware, incense. I had close to fifty people working for me, in stockrooms, in the market. People used to come around the house all the time, with questions, but a month ago the carpenters had built a special pavilion for me and now I sat there mornings with my account slates to plan and answer questions and settle disputes among the employees. Mrs Pala, the coconut woman from the old neighbourhood, was my assistant now and next week…
Nol broke in. ‘I don’t see why any of this is necessary. You’re the wife of the parasol master. It is enough to see to your own household.’
‘It’s my way of serving our prince, husband.’
Bopa said: ‘And she’s done some trading for us too!’
I think that Nol now saw the shrine and the other fine things in the room in a different light. He ground his teeth. ‘I’m going to see to it that one day you’ll remember this house and wonder how you ever lived in such a tiny place, and how you got by with just one servant.’
‘Husband, please accept that I want no greater wealth than what we have now. It’s already too much; wanting things brings no peace to the soul. Whatever it is that makes you unsatisfied with this house, please, can’t you put it aside? This place has become home for Bopa and me and I hope that when the prince returns to the Capital it will be home for you and Sovan as well, that its spirit will welcome you, and that we will make a quiet life here together.’
Nol took a breath, then put his hand to mine. ‘I’m afraid the quiet life is behind us.’
That evening, the children left the house to visit another market. Nol and I bathed at the jars behind the house, then I led him to my sleeping room. I blew out the lamp that flickered on a stand in the corner, and entered the mosquito net that the maid had set up. Nol joined me. I lay still on the mat inside, eyes closed. Presently Nol stroked the curve of my neck where it met the shoulders. He looked down on my face and skin, which glowed from moonlight that Heaven sent through a window, and I could see that old devotion on his face. His hands began to move over more of my body. I did not resist, but neither did I help.
And I committed a deep sin. For just a moment, I allowed myself to imagine that it was the prince leaning over me in the moonlight.
The next morning, the maid put rice, catfish and water spinach before the family in the main room. I asked that Sovan might stay the day, but my husband answered that the boy was needed to help with preparations for the wedding. So, the two of them said their good-byes in front of the house and departed, as ignorant of my secret as I had intended they be. At least I had accomplished that.
So many things had happened in the last two days. Yet the events of one that would soon follow would make them all seem insignificant.
22: The bird-god Garuda
I left the house shortly after my husband and son, thinking I must not stay in and dwell on my concerns. I went about my day’s work in the compound, planning for orders of fish from the Freshwater Sea. But each person with whom I dealt wanted not to discuss the business at hand but to ask a question: When will the nuptial rites take place? Word had spread that Nol had been home for the night; I had never thought to ask.
Normally, of course, preparations for a wedding take quite a long time, whether for a village couple or a pair of royal betrothed. There is a need for consultations, astrological calculations and extended prayer, not to mention the organizing of feasts and processions. But the Brahmins were anxious to complete this particular rite and get the prince back out of Angkor, even though he was to be placed in line to the throne. Such was their jealousy, fear, resentment – call it what you will.
In the end, it took them only three days to get things ready.
On the appointed morning, the Capital erupted in another giant celebration as word flew about that the rites had begun inside the palace walls: Now Prince Indra is standing next to his bride, now the King’s chief priest is chanting the wedding verse, now the blessing string is being tied around their wrists. Now they are married! Across the city, gongs rang, drums sounded and countless earthen cups of rice wine were upended. People got to their feet to dance. In half a dozen shrines, young couples took their own hastily scheduled wedding vows, hoping for luck through association with what was happening behind those walls, out of sight.
Plans called for a celebration parade in the afternoon. His Majesty would lead atop an elephant, Prince Indra following on the beast he had ridden into the city.
Shortly after the midday meal, the men of the royal wardrobe gathered the garments and jewellery that the King would wear for the parade. They came to his pavilion and, after murmuring apologies for touching the royal body, they applied sampot, golden ear ornaments and pendants, headdress and scent, one after the other. Then they put the golden sword in his hands. They would recall later that their lord looked wearily at it, and then to the grand chamberlain.
‘It is time to begin, then?’
‘Yes, Majesty.’
‘Well, some water first, please.’
He was passed a bowl, and dra
nk, making a child’s slurping noise – he was quite advanced in age, after all. Then, on the chamberlain’s signal, a pair of servants came close, and after uttering more apologies, put hands to their lord’s elbows and guided him toward the door. At the threshold he paused to sniff at a bouquet.
Outside was a set of portable wooden steps, by which knelt an elephant, a gilded platform on its back, red silk vestments hanging from its sides.
‘It’s Kumari, I hope?’ the King asked, squinting. His eyes were no good at this distance.
‘Yes, Majesty,’ whispered the servant on his right. ‘As you requested.’
It seems that one of the few decisions the King made for himself was which elephant he would ride. For today’s occasion, the palace staff would have preferred one of the more fearsome beasts of the stable, veterans of war, but Kumari had for months been the only elephant the King would select. I imagine that he was frightened of most of the animals, but with this calm and intelligent one he had established a rapport, even as I had in the old days, and sometimes he whispered to her questions about his next life.
At the steps, the servants put hands to him once more to guide him upward, but he shook his head. He looked to a young man who wore the neckpiece of a royal mahout. ‘First, how about something for my big girl?’
‘Yes, Majesty!’ replied the mahout.
It was Sadong, the man with whom I had been friends for so long. Now he fetched a basket of cut sugar cane. The King stepped in front of the elephant, and held a piece up, looking into the animal’s eyes, and then to the diamond of pale-pink skin on the forehead. The trunk rose to signal thanks, then its tip came down and in a delicate motion took the piece from the royal fingers.
‘There, there, Kumari, you like it so much! Haven’t they been giving you any at the stable?’
Sadong cringed at that remark, and the King, sensing his unease, turned to him: ‘Just a joke, young man. I know you take very good care of her. Well, I suppose we have to get going now. We’ve got to do a little work.’
With the servants’ help, the King ascended the steps and sat down on the gilded platform atop the animal’s back. Sadong took his own place astraddle the neck. In his hand was a brass goad for guiding, but it was only ceremonial. Kumari was attuned to the lightest touch of the toes at a spot behind a leathery ear. Now Sadong touched that spot and the beast lumbered forward. The King held on tight, because even with Kumari he was frightened at being so high off the ground.
Twelve parasol bearers joined the King and his mount, six to a side, each holding a long shaft atop which fluttered gold and red silk. Ahead, junior Brahmins lifted an ark in which the royal fire burned. Then, to the beat of drum and cymbals, the priests led the way out the north gate of the palace compound. In the open area outside, yet more members of the procession, one hundred twenty soldiers of the royal guard, stood in formation. And behind the men Prince Indra, atop his own elephant.
Kumari turned to follow the fire bearers; I would guess that the King’s eyes were not strong enough to see even that Indra was there. Probably no one had told him he would be.
Orders were shouted down the line, and the soldiers raised spears in unison and began marching behind the royal mount. The procession made its way along the compound’s north wall, then at the corner turned to the right, to proceed toward the royal reviewing terrace. Her Majesty the Queen, as old and honourable as her husband, sat on a dais at its precise centre, presiding over close to a hundred nobles and retainers seated on mats to either side. Martial games were taking place before them, in which several members of Indra’s guard were vying against the King’s men in a contest of blunt-tipped knives and spears.
When the procession appeared, eyes turned as one toward it. Whispers arose – see the sun glinting so nicely off the gilding! See the vestments of the King’s elephant, the flame of the royal fire! And so many parasols!
Nol was on that terrace, and he had other concerns. I would guess that he found himself whispering now, into the stones, a rare prayer, a request for steadiness and courage. At certain times, he could be quite a religious man.
What I am about to do, lords of Heaven, must be done for the safety of the Empire.
Perhaps those were his words.
The King’s elephant was approaching the centre of the terrace, where steps lead down to the grass of the reviewing field. As if as one, spectators placed their heads down in reverence. And then, from the top of the steps, came some kind of commotion. Everyone remembered this: a woman’s shout, words of protest. All around, heads came up from the floor to look. ‘The prince’s concubine,’ someone muttered. ‘She’s got in again – she’s demanding a place at the centre. At a time as late as this.’ Guards at the base of the steps raced up them to deal with her, and Nol would have understood that at this moment, at least, she was a confederate.
So he hurried down the steps and out across the grass as if to meet the King’s elephant. Voices shouted from behind him. ‘You!’ ‘Stop right there!’ ‘Come back!’ He kept going. As the fire bearers and the elephant drew near, he fell to the grass and did a full prostration.
‘Get out of here!’ A breathless soldier had caught up with him. ‘You can’t offer a petition this way.’
A spear tip pricked his shoulder, but only pricked it, I think because the soldier had suddenly recognized who he was. Nol bore the pain without response.
Eyes closed, Nol would have sensed the fire bearers passing, then the footfalls of the King’s elephant Kumari, with the lighter, faster feet of the parasol men to the side. An instant after that would have come the sound of quick, strong, firm human steps, then a terrible, crushing blow at the centre of his back. My husband’s chest collapsed flat against the ground!
The blow was delivered by the right foot of Prince Indra, who a few seconds earlier had dropped from atop his elephant and sprinted forward with the force of a charging boar, passing the ranks of marching soldiers. In his hand he held a short-shafted spear. Even today, I find this all hard to imagine, or believe. But Nol had placed his body on the ground as a springboard, giving the prince the boost he needed to bound straight onto the back of Kumari.
How unspeakable, how tragic it was. The last thing that His Majesty saw in this life was Indra, poised over him, the spear raised high. Its point came down hard on the wrinkled skin of our peaceful monarch’s shoulder, penetrating straight to the heart. The royal eyes flashed, then rolled, going dim. Indra pulled the spear’s point out, took the sword of authority from unresisting fingers, then pushed the body off the gilded platform. Our lord’s earthly form careened limp and bleeding toward the grass, landing full and heavy atop one of the parasol men, who collapsed beneath the weight, totally confused. This man’s parasol began to fall, slowly, like a tree cut in a forest. The man behind him grabbed for it, but missed, setting off panic among the entire team. Shrieks were heard; the neat formation of red and gold silk overhead dissolved into chaos.
The prince paid no attention to any of that, but stood full up on the elephant’s back. He raised the golden sword with both hands, and shouted, to the people on the terrace, to the soldiers, and, it was later said, to the Empire at large: ‘I claim the throne, by right of the Lord Shiva, by right of the needs of the Khmer people! The period of decay and corruption is over! The Empire will expand, it will destroy its enemies wherever they are found! The Khmer race will again live in security!’
Thus began the Eighteenth Reign.
People on the terrace stared in stunned silence; on the grass below, soldiers looked up in fear, then at each other. They remained in formation behind the elephant, marching, but then one man broke ranks and went to the ground to hail the prince, then another, until finally all of them were down.
But the prince did not want that. ‘Soldiers!’ he shouted. ‘You will continue your escort. Form up again and follow. Fire bearers! Take the flame back to the palace and safeguard it.Parasol bearers! Get away! Go get a team of my own men to accompany me.’
Sadong muttered assent. It was the first sign he was not going to die.
Behind, Nol raised his head from the grass. People said later he made right away to stand, but on this first attempt he failed. I believe he was already being punished by Heaven for his act – his lower back had been injured by the prince’s foot. But he chose to ignore the pain. On second try he managed to get to his feet, then strode past the bleeding corpse of the King, now surrounded by the parasol bearers and a pair of priests who had dared run to it. Nol ignored them, continuing on to a gate through which prince and elephant had left the field. He saw them ahead. But something was wrong. The animal had stopped.
Feel pity for Sadong. He was in a panic himself now. He was astride the gentle beast’s neck, bouncing, kicking behind the ears, applying that brass goad so hard to the animal he loved that blood was trickling down a great leathery foreleg. But the elephant would not move. The prince stood atop her, shouting in rage. Kumari’s response was to snort and flap her ears and swing her trunk left and right. Do you understand? The elephant was committing an act of disobedience. She would not move as long as Prince Indra remained on her back.
Sadong slipped to the ground and stood face to face with Kumari, stroking her trunk and whispering pleadings.
The prince dropped down too, grabbed Sadong by the hair and forced him to his knees in front of the elephant. A knife gleamed. Sadong offered no resistance. That was his way; his fate was in Heaven’s hands.
‘I will count to five, elephant,’ declared the prince. ‘Then I will kill this man, your friend, your keeper. Do you understand? Unless you begin to walk. If you don’t, he will die. Right here!’
The prince began to count. The elephant trumpeted in distress and stamped a foot.
Then Nol came running up.
‘Highness, please...’
The knife turned to Nol and for an instant he wondered if he might die first. But then it was lowered. ‘It is challenging me! You can see!’ The prince could barely control himself.
