A Woman of Angkor

by John Burgess

  Some priests who take the chastity vows have difficulty sticking to them. But I will tell you that I believe that Subhadra did not. I believe that he was that rare human being who is left cold by the idea of lying entwined in the limbs of another, be it female or male. I never saw him cast toward anyone a glance that even hinted of that sort of interest. And certainly I never heard whispered stories of secret night-time assignations. One can never truly know motivations on such a question, but could it be that as he grew older the vows were for him in part a way of turning aside inevitable questions from parents and siblings as to when he would take a wife?

  So, the meeting began, those thirty aged men sitting on mats arranged in a circle. They spent long hours discussing the issue and consulting the Vedas and commentaries, with Subhadra directing and sometimes, I think, controlling the discussion. After eight days, they reached agreement and called in a scribe who wrote out the revisions on a cured deer skin. Now by tradition, the rules and the divine logic underlying a new ruling on royal behaviour are explained in some detail to the monarch. So the King came to the meeting hall. He took his place on a dais, legs folded, as four fans moved the air overhead. He said nothing, but every priest in the room could sense that he was already suspicious.

  Incense was lit, prayer were chanted, and then the Brahmin began.

  ‘It has been discovered, Majesty, that in the procreative sphere the gods in fact approve of certain practices that were previously barred.’

  The royal visage lit up. Do you recall Subhadra’s observation that at times our King was like a handsome young village man strolling through a festival, inspecting the local girls as he goes? There was truth in that.

  ‘Majesty, the controls have been too restrictive for many years. We offer apologies that you were subjected to them for so long.’

  ‘Well, what are the changes then?’

  The priest began to describe them in detail. Must I specify? I suppose yes, at least somewhat. I promised to tell you all I know, though I may blush in doing so. It was like this: simultaneous encounters with up to six partners, rather than the previous limit of four, were permissible. Certain carnal positions that had been treated as an affront to Heaven were not in fact so, were even encouraged by the deities as a celebration of strength. The priests at the gathering had listed fourteen such positions and scribes had drawn diagrams. The Brahmin passed these to the King, who examined them with what was recalled as a close and sometimes disbelieving kind of interest.

  ‘Do you accept these changes, Majesty?’ the Brahmin asked.

  ‘I accept them.’

  ‘Very good. Now I will proceed to explain to you the rest of the rules in this portfolio and I am sure that you will take them to heart as graciously as you have the ones I have presented already.’

  When a King enters into a new carnal relationship, it must be with a virgin, the Brahmin said. It would be an offense against Heaven for the monarch’s organ to visit a place where an ordinary man’s had been before. There must be in all of these relations the maximum opportunity for the royal seed to unite with a female counterpart, so that royal issue would result. The chances of this occurring decrease with increasing age of the female. Therefore, only the youngest of females who have reached the age of monthly blood must be chosen. And to take into the concubine pavilion a woman who has earlier established married relations would also be an offense against the societal order that Heaven strives to engineer on earth. Because no matter how high the compensation offered, there would remain the risk that the recipient might feel it insufficient, yet feel unable to turn it down. In addition, to bring in an older concubine might cause discord among the other concubines in the pavilion, because there would be a conflict between age and seniority.

  The reading, including supporting scriptures, continued through the afternoon and, after lamps were lit, into the evening. The King grew increasingly unsettled. Twice he instructed that the session be suspended, but the Rajaguru bravely pretended not to hear.

  In the end, the King gave in and withdrew.

  The next day, His Majesty took the scribes’ diagrams with him into his sleeping chamber. Concubines joined him there. I will not try to imagine the things that went on in that room. But I will say that from the standpoint of divine law, whatever happened must only have strengthened the writ against any intention to call me as a concubine. The King could not accept one part of the new rules and ignore another.

  Some days later, Subhadra was kneeling in the private chapel of his house, working his way through midday prayers, when an attendant announced that my husband was outside. The two men took places on mats, across a table of polished teak.

  ‘I’ve come to express my gratitude for what you did,’ Nol said. ‘There is nothing more dear to me than my wife.’

  ‘No thanks are needed,’ the Brahmin replied. ‘It was a privilege to help. In any case, what we did at the convocation was merely to bring about deeper understanding of the laws of Heaven. But let’s not talk about that any more. It’s settled.’

  It soon became clear that what the priest really wanted to talk about was something else entirely, the war with the Chams. He spent some time recounting the last dispatch from the front. The Khmer forces had failed to advance as far as planned and had suffered high casualties. Dysentery had rendered a third of the soldiers unfit to fight. The remaining soldiers risked their carts and chariots bogging down in rainy season mud. In the meantime, the Chams had opened a new front to the north and burned a Khmer border town – the local prince there had changed sides and given over to the enemy two fighting boats moored at his estate’s docks.

  It was the Brahmin’s belief that the time had come to talk peace. But the King had to be persuaded. ‘It could be presented to His Majesty as a temporary holding in place while we built up forces for a later offensive,’ the priest observed. ‘As you know, on many subjects he changes his mind if given the time. After a few months he might forget about resuming operations and when we…’

  Here my husband broke in: ‘No! We have to keep on with the war. We’ve suffered losses, yes, but the Chams have suffered much bigger ones. We can gain the initiative now. We can reach the enemy Capital before the start of the rainy season, I’m sure of it…

  But Nol stopped there, because his mind had caught up with the reason why this subject was being raised now.

  The Brahmin let the silence develop. ‘My friend,’ he said, ‘we have worked together for the sake of your wife’s safety and freedom. Let us work together on this other subject as well.’

  Nol left an hour later, having agreed to take up the case with the King but also with Rit and the other senior commanders.

  I can imagine that the priest, watching my husband depart, felt that things had turned out not so badly. The King had been steered away from a morally defiling liaison. And a bad war was going to end before it got worse.

  33: The corral

  A messenger with word of the king’s acceptance of the new rules reached me just as I was finishing evening prayers. The next morning, I descended the hill to where the cart awaited. The journey home began, Sergeant Sen staying very close at hand, as he always did now. We passed through villages where boys led buffalos and women fanned stubborn coals. The sights, the sergeant’s presence and the measured plod of the oxen’s hooves made me feel that life was swinging back to a more normal course.

  We stopped for the midday meal at a roadside teashop. As I returned to the cart, an aged man in tattered sampot stepped forward, begging a word. Sergeant Sen tensed, a hand going to the knife in his waist, but I could sense that the old man was harmless. I signalled that I would listen.

  ‘Great Lady, I have come to ask that you help us,’ he said in a raspy voice. ‘We have a project of benevolence that might interest you, involving certain animals. It is not far; I beg to take you there.’

  He led our party along the main road a bit, then onto a track that crossed paddies now fed by rains. We were brought to a ro
ugh wooden gate, a very high and strong one. Sergeant Sen insisted on going through first. Then I followed.

  ‘Be careful with your steps,’ advised the old man from behind. Here and there were ankle-high droppings.

  It was an elephant corral. Four of the great animals were half-submerged in the water of a dirty pond a hundred paces away; others were picking through an already picked-through pile of wilting foliage. Their grey flesh sagged, their ears flapped too slowly to keep insects at bay. My eyes examined each of the animals, but I did not see the one I now dared hope for.

  ‘How hungry they are,’ I said to the old man, though I knew it was not his fault.

  ‘We try our best, Lady, to give them a decent place to live out their years. But they eat so much. We have a hard time keeping up.’

  Then I turned and saw Sadong running toward me. He went straight down at my feet, face to the dust, and when he looked up, tears glistened on both cheeks. ‘It is in fact you, then!’ he cried, putting a hand to my foot. ‘The Lady Sray and our old friend the duck egg vendor are the same. But I’m sorry – I should not speak in such a familiar way...’

  ‘It’s all right, Sadong. You may speak as you want. And you may stand up. I wish you would, in fact.’

  He did, gratefully. ‘Lady Sray,’ he whispered, with pride, ‘your piece of jewellery was used as directed.’

  ‘Oh, Sadong, there was never any doubt it would be. But I am so happy finally to see the place.’ Then I paused and whispered too, not wanting the sergeant to hear: ‘And a certain elephant. Is she still with us, or has her soul passed to her next life?’

  ‘Oh no, Lady. She remains with us, and in good health. She is just over there, do you not see the one? Behind the other animals. You might not recognize her. We have applied dye, to hide, you know, the holy mark on her forehead.’

  As we approached, the elephant was browsing through scraps of straw that lay on the ground. The diamond was there, visible if you knew to look for it. With strangers around, the beast seemed to realize a need for discretion. She paid no particular attention when I stopped just an arm’s length from her face. She did not trumpet nor offer her trunk to nuzzle. But each time that she brought straw to her mouth, an eye turned and met mine in the former intimate way.

  Old friend Kumari! I began to speak to her in thought. Blessed friend Kumari! To think I had always believed that you went to some far corner of the Empire. And yet you were hardly half a day’s journey away, all this time.

  I wanted to formally pose a question to the animal like in past days. But the sergeant was there. So I strolled with the keeper out of earshot. ‘Your conditions here are difficult, but you have cared for her well. Do you think...do you think that the spirit of the former Majesty still resides within her?’

  ‘A man like me is not capable of sensing such things, Lady. But I can tell you that she still has powers of divination. When I heard that the Lady Sray was staying at the temple by the port, I brought out the old sticks with text on them and asked if this might be the same Mrs Sray who had been so kind to us. I had heard some people say that the Lady had risen from a humble life. And the elephant chose a stick that told me yes and that we would see her again. So I left word at the tea shop on the road that if ever her procession were to pass by the shop, that someone must run here to inform us. Our fortune was better than that – her procession stopped at the shop. By the powers of the holy elephant, she has arrived at our corral.’

  How could I not be touched by that? Tears began to form.

  ‘How do you support this place now? The money from the neckpiece must have run out a long time ago.’

  ‘I do as best I can, Lady.’

  In the next ten minutes, I learned that Sadong sometimes hired out the elephants for labour, though at a discount because most were lame. The priests at a nearby temple sometimes sent over a bit of silver, and the teashop let Sadong take away its refuse as feed. Sometimes the local villagers pitched in too, but relations with them were not so good just now, because a week earlier two of the elephants had escaped the corral and fed at a cucumber garden, trampling it.

  I wandered back to the elephant, this time alone. When I was close enough to feel the breath and to smell the body, I whispered: ‘Kumari, it fills my soul with gladness to know that you are here in safety. I assure you that you will always have food to eat. So here – please take this.’

  I bent down and took in my hand a piece of straw. This I held out, knowing that what mattered was the sincerity with which a gift, however insignificant, was presented, and sincerity was something I had at that moment in large supply. The large eyes regarded me with empathy. Then the trunk rose; its tip took the offering gently from my hand.

  That evening, Nol welcomed me home with effusive words. We ate a dinner of rice, grilled prawns and papaya, favourites all, to celebrate my return. He seemed entirely calm and peaceful, so unlike when I had departed, as if he had forgotten even the pain in his back. I decided I would not disturb him by mentioning the attack. Later, we sat together at a window, the final drops of a monsoon shower sounding on the roof, a lamp burning between us. I put an arm around him and pulled myself close. We remained together, as crickets called to us from the darkness outside. Then I led him to the mosquito net. I wanted to show him, and perhaps myself, that my loyalties lay with only one man.

  The next day, I went to see Mr Narin. He was now, as before, chief scribe. I told him about the temple. He told me I was very generous with my money and that it was a shame there weren’t more people like me. I replied that in fact there were more such people – he had given me an opening for the subject I wanted to discuss. I explained about Mr Chen and the other merchants and how they would have more money for good works if the local magistrates would stop demanding bribes. Mr Narin listened, then sighed and told me that this had been a problem for many years.

  ‘The Chinese come here from their country to trade,’ he said, ‘but they have no formal status in the Empire, because our Empire has no formal relations with theirs. So Khmer officials look on them as a source of quick money. At times the magistrates stir up the local people against the Chinese, but sometimes the people don’t need any stirring.’ At that he paused. ‘When I was just at the age of starting my studies, it got out of hand in my town, and twenty or so Chinese were murdered. Right on the street and in their homes.’

  ‘How awful!’

  Mr Narin explained that the same kind of things had happened sometimes to Khmer people who live in China. It would be so much smoother, he said, if the Empire had some kind of agreement with China, so that each would treat the other’s people with fairness. The Brahmin Subhadra, he said, had written to the Chinese authorities with such a proposal, sending his missive on a merchant ship, but had never received an answer.

  I said: ‘Perhaps someone will one day work it out. In the meantime, do you think you could raise the issue of the bribes with the Brahmin? I feel that the merchants deserve some relief.’

  He said that for me, of course he would. That was his way, always willing to help.

  ‘And Mr Narin, if I may ask one more favour…’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘It is that you might convey to the Brahmin my deepest thanks for his role...his role in the adoption of the, the new rules.’

  ‘I will, Lady Sray.’ Then he lowered his voice. ‘And may I make a suggestion, as a friend? If you have business outside the city, why not take care of it now? The priests have devised rules that are very strong, but still it would be better if adherence to these rules is never tested.’

  That seemed to be wise advice. So the next morning I got things ready and sent a servant to the barracks with word that Sergeant Sen and his men would be needed again.

  34: A new avocation

  Shortly after the rains ended that year, six priests of the Council of Brahmins strode in procession toward the site of the future mountain-temple. Members of the palace household turned out to watch their departure. Across the Nag
a bridge, so did many tens of thousands of the Capital’s people. When the priests reached the temple site, all was hidden and private, between holy men and Heaven alone, but later on we learned in detail what happened. The priests erected a wooden altar at the precise spot at which the central tower would rise. They put flowers and fruit on the altar and blessed it to the fullest of earthly authority. And then they moved to the side, anxious like at no other time, because for that brief period they had been kneeling at the precise centre of the universe, the very pivot of creation.

  A few hours later, the Rajaguru Subhadra arrived in separate procession. He dismissed the six priests, who went to make devotions at a place in the forest where slaves had set up shelters. Then he spent extended time checking the materials, size and orientation of the altar. That evening, he bathed with water placed there in a large sacred jar, said prayers and lay down to sleep, his head aligned to the east, his thoughts as serene as was possible for a man on whose shoulders the Empire’s spiritual security rested. He awoke at dawn, and began a six-hour rite witnessed by no one but himself and whatever deities chose to look on. As he made his way through the chants, I would guess that he felt that quite a few gods did gather, and that they were sympathetic to his plea for support in an endeavour that would consume the time, wealth and energy of an entire generation of the Empire’s people.