A Woman of Angkor

by John Burgess

  Then came a shout and everyone went to the fort’s gate. Horsemen flying the King’s standard were approaching. But not at a gallop. Even from afar it was clear that this was a procession of defeated men. Wounds and torn clothing and damaged spears began to show. The fort’s commander, frowning at the sight, stepped forward and traded a few words with a weary officer who had a gash across his shoulder.

  When the commander returned, he had grave news. ‘Prince Aroon has been killed. The Chaiyapoom estate house has burned to the ground and its prince is dead too. About His Majesty – they don’t know.’

  Yan asked: ‘So what should my mistress and I do?’

  He looked to her with some irritation. ‘Do whatever you want.’ Then he turned back to his soldiers.

  The rear of the column was still in sight. Yan told Bopa they must hurry and join it. Five minutes later, the cart was fording the stream, water up to its axle. But the beasts, as always, refused to move any faster than a plod. The cart could not catch up to the horsemen, and soon the two women were travelling alone again, through another stretch of foreboding jungle.

  Ahead, a wild boar darted across the road. Frightened, the oxen stopped. No matter how hard Yan flicked the whip, they refused to move. Bopa lay down in despair, arms folded tightly to her chest. She no longer believed that Heaven was charting her safety.

  56: Captivity

  So the soldiers finally did come for me. It was at night. I was at home at the time, sleeping, naked under my linen. I was awoken by footfalls on the polished teak floor, by the flicker of a lamp that one of the men carried.

  I sat up, heart pounding.

  ‘Lady Sray,’ said the soldiers’ leader. ‘You must come with us.’

  Through my mind flashed images of the long-ago prince lying dead.

  ‘I will. Please do me the courtesy of stepping back while I dress.’

  ‘Yes, Lady Sray.’

  Presently I emerged from the net, a prayer on my lips. It was peculiar – in the face of the reality of arrest, I was far calmer than I had been in merely worrying about it. The soldier in charge led me down the steps of the veranda and across the courtyard to our compound’s gate. Servants peeked from windows and doorways, weeping, whispering protective prayers in my direction, but unable to do anything more. Outside the compound walls, more soldiers waited, and they fell silent too when I approached. They formed up around me at a respectful distance and walked me in silence through darkness to the palace.

  There I was led along a long wooden arcade, to a door. Beyond it a lamp burned, revealing a chamber prepared for a lady, with full comforts – mat and linens, gilded frames on the windows, silver cups of water, a small shrine.

  I entered. Behind me, a drape was pulled across the doorway and I was alone.

  I knelt at the shrine. ‘Lords of Heaven, let whatever penalty has resulted from my life be exacted on me alone. It was I who failed to keep away from the young prince. It was I who led my husband to run away without facing the consequences. Let me pay the price for these acts, let it fall to no one else.’

  I sat back. My calmness, I think, grew from relief that the wait and dissembling were over. I would now salvage some small measure of honour by admitting to what I had done. The encounter with the aged cart driver had brought back to me a truth that I had sometimes put to the side, that one’s past cannot be escaped, that the sum merit and transgressions of a life’s every thought and action carry forward with that life.

  Later, dawn began to colour the small patch of sky visible through the window. Footsteps sounded outside the door. Two servants entered, poking heads through the drapes. They set trays of food on the floor and left without a word. I ate a bit of rice and plum.

  Later there entered a stone-faced Brahmin I didn’t know and a scribe, who carried a small writing stand.

  ‘I have come to question you,’ the priest announced.

  He settled down opposite me, his eyes declining to engage.

  ‘You are, are you not, the Lady Sray, wife of Nol the parasol master? Mother of Bopa the concubine and Sovan the architect.’

  ‘I am, all of those things.’

  ‘And endower of charitable works, most recently the pilgrim hospital at the bridge by the third distance marker on the eastern highway?’

  ‘No, sir, the hospital was not my work. It was the work of another family, the keepers of the King’s cattle.’

  He glanced my way, and I could see that he did not welcome this duty. Then he continued one question after the other, pausing when the scribe at his writing stand fell behind. Where was I born? Where was I raised? How had my family come to be in the royal household? Then: ‘Have you ever, Lady Sray, been in the presence of an elephant said to be holy, known by the name Kumari?’

  That question? I hadn’t expected it.

  ‘Yes.’

  He led me through those initial encounters years earlier in the marketplace, the diamond on the beast’s forehead, methods of divining the future and communicating it.

  ‘Now tell me, who was the keeper of this elephant?’

  ‘I cannot remember his name.’

  His eyes met mine full-on for the first time. ‘Lady Sray, you should try to remember.’ But that was all. He did not press me again for the name. He turned to how Kumari had disappeared from the royal corral after the late King’s death.

  ‘It was my doing,’ I replied. ‘I went to the corral at night when the men there were sleeping. I led the elephant out, and took her away from the city.’

  ‘You did this by yourself?’

  ‘Yes. I set her free in the forest. She did not follow me back to the city.’

  ‘That is a remarkable claim. The handling of elephants is a man’s job.’ Again, he did not attempt to bully me into changing my story.

  I said a silent prayer to atone for the lie, then continued: ‘I did it because Kumari was in danger with the change of reigns.’

  ‘Was she?’

  ‘She was. I did what I did to help a divine animal who had helped me and many other people in the city and harmed no one. She is gone now, but wherever she may be, I wish her the longest of lives.’

  ‘Lady Sray,’ said the Brahmin, ‘on that account I can tell you a few things. Kumari is still living.’

  ‘Oh! That is wonderful news.’

  ‘Yes, but it is not so simple. Eight days ago, she was seen with a rebel force that appeared in the Upper Empire at the annual martial games at Chaiyapoom. This force was led by the King’s son Darit. It attacked the King’s party. The crown prince was killed, along with half the royal guard. The prince of the estate died as well. But His Majesty fought his way out and has succeeded in returning to the Capital. For this we all give thanks to Heaven. Our King is now mobilizing an army to go back and suppress the uprising.’

  I took a moment considering it all. ‘Brahmin, I can tell you that Kumari is a peaceable creature, with no interest in war or the taking of power. If she is with these rebels, it is as a captive. It is not by her choice.’

  ‘That is plausible, Lady Sray. She did not take part in the combat. She was merely put on display, at the fringes of the battlefield, as a means of building fighting spirit in the rebel soldiers. She was held by a man who might have brought her there against her will.’ The Brahmin waited a moment, then said: ‘But there is more I must tell you, I’m afraid. Before the battle began, the rebel Darit gave a speech. He declared that...that you, Lady Sray, had blessed the rebellion.’

  ‘What?’ My hand came to my mouth. ‘I did no such thing!’

  The Brahmin’s manner softened. ‘I can see, Lady, that it’s absurd to think that you did. But I must take your statement nonetheless. It is the King’s order.’ He proceeded to ask me many detailed questions, which I could barely answer, about Darit’s visit to my retreat village and what passed between us there.

  ‘Lady Sray,’ he said at the end. ‘This will all be recorded and presented to His Majesty. It is for the King to decide what to do, but I
will make my recommendation.’

  Alone again, I knelt at the shrine. I prayed and prayed but found no solace – not a word that I whispered registered with my own soul, nor, I believe, with whichever gods were listening. Heaven asks that prayers come from a settled heart, but my heart that day was a tangle of conflicting emotions, lies and half-truths. The guilt I had come here to confess to remained as concealed as ever; I had let the Brahmin leave the room without a word said about it. And yet somehow I felt indignant that new, false accusations were being laid on my shoulders. I found myself demanding that Heaven intervene to right this wrong. Through these claims of plots and rebellion, I was being denied the serenity that can come, so I believed, from placing oneself forward to receive a penalty deserved.

  By the time I finally turned from the shrine, I had promised that when this arrest finally brought me face to face with His Majesty, I would spill out my confession promptly. There would be no more delay. And then I would do everything I could to convince him that whatever had happened those many years ago, I had never done anything in present times to try to harm him, nor could I even imagine doing such a thing.

  57: Sovan’s gambit

  My son had not yet learned of the rebellion or my arrest, but that would quickly change.

  The night lamps were burning when the watchman hurried to the footbridge of the water pavilion behind the house. Inside Sovan sat studying a slate-board message in which his supply master attempted to explain, without directly citing obstruction by lords of various estates, why there was a shortage of laterite blocks at the mountain-temple’s staging yard.

  ‘Pardon me, sir,’ called the watchman. ‘But a cart has arrived. It would be best if you came.’

  Sovan followed him to the front of the house. There he understood immediately why he’d been summoned. In the light of a torch, a maid was helping a distressed young woman down from the cart. It was his sister, her hair matted, her clothing stained. She wore not a single piece of jewellery. Sovan hurried to her and took her by the hands. Her response was to stumble full against him. They stood together, he holding her up, she weeping into his shoulder.

  The maid Yan spoke. ‘I could think of nowhere to come but here, sir. We saw soldiers everywhere around the palace, even at your father’s house. Some of them were drinking. It wasn’t safe for my mistress, so we came here.’

  ‘You did the right thing,’ replied Sovan. Still, he had no idea what she was describing. He noticed now that the maid’s hair was dishevelled too, and there was a bruise on her face.

  Suriya came hurrying down the front steps. ‘Goodness! What happened?’ She took charge, leading Bopa around the house toward a bathing jar. ‘Don’t worry,’ Suriya whispered to her, leaning close. ‘You’ll be safe here. We’ll take you to get cleaned up, then you can lie down.’

  Bopa mumbled: ‘Please, please, I want to sleep.’

  Husband and wife exchanged a glance – at least she could speak, then.

  Inside the house, Suriya got her sister-in-law settled on a mat, and placed a linen covering over her. ‘You have no fever, sister,’ whispered Suriya. ‘That’s good. You’ll feel better soon, I’m sure.’

  Bopa’s eyelids drooped and in a few moments she was breathing heavily in sleep. Suriya settled in to sit vigil; Sovan went outside to get more from the maid. When she had finished her own bath, she told the full story: the attack on His Majesty, the claim that I had blessed the rebellion, the soldiers at the fort by the river.

  ‘After we left the fort, sir,’ said Yan, ‘we travelled for four days. But the King’s soldiers were ahead of us and every village they passed learned from them of the rebellion. Some places were quite unfriendly by the time we came through. At one, we had to trade some of our jewellery just to eat. In the next one, men rushed the cart and stole the rest of what we had....’ She seemed not to want to continue.

  Sovan had to ask: ‘Was there worse than that?’

  ‘No, sir. But almost. Well, sir, they...they took hold of your sister. They pulled her right out of the cart. I fought them, sir, and I made them give her up just when they were about to take her into a house. I shamed them, really – I shouted at them that I am only a maid and she is a defenceless lady. Then we got going again, and didn’t dare stop again until we arrived here.’

  She began to cry, and Sovan put a hand to her shoulder. ‘You need not worry anymore,’ he said softly. ‘We’ll call in priests for her purification. We’ll protect her. And we’ll do those things for you as well. I have no doubt that she made it here safely only because of you. You have earned merit for the next life in a quantity most people will never achieve.’

  That night, Sovan made no attempt to sleep. He paced, in the garden by the lotus pond, beneath a three-quarter moon. Through the window, he could see the lamp-lit outline of his wife, still watching over Bopa. All was strangely peaceful in this place, the members of his immediately family safe. But he knew that I must be in grave danger.

  After a while, he called to his wife. ‘I will go to the palace and see what I can do for my mother.’

  Suriya came outside, put arms around him and held him for a moment. Then she told him to go. ‘I will pray for you. Heaven will return you safely, with her.’

  He went off alone in the darkness, riding a mare. When he passed through the city’s south gate, he saw immediately why Yan had been so afraid. Two soldiers sat in a lamp-lilt wine stall, toying with a prostitute. On the ground outside, a comrade was sleeping off a drinking binge. Who could say if they were celebrating having survived the fighting in the north, or were merely Capital garrison men who sensed a breakdown coming? A male voice called. ‘Come over here, what a nice horse that is.’ Sovan dug in his heels to make the animal gallop. He went first to the house of Nol and me. I was not there, of course. Neither was Nol. A retainer explained fearfully at the gate that I had been taken by guardsmen, that the master was out of the city and a messenger had been sent urgently to fetch him.

  At the bridge to the royal sector, Sovan saw more soldiers, but at least these were disciplined. They stood in a row, spears and shields ready, and refused to let him through. He tried three other ways in, but it was the same at each – hostile fighting men telling him to go away. He wasted several hours this way. Late in the morning, as he stood outside the north gate thinking out his next step, an aide to the Brahmin Subhadra happened to pass by. They spoke.

  The aide declined to take a note to me, but he agreed to pass something to the Brahmin. Sovan quickly wrote out an urgent request for a meeting with him. Then he wandered away from the gate a bit – better than to have the soldiers order him to step away – and stood waiting. It was evening when the Brahmin finally appeared. Sovan rushed to him.

  ‘My mother is all right?’

  ‘Yes, no one has harmed her.’

  ‘You must help me get in to see the King.’

  ‘I’m afraid...I’m afraid he has already refused that,’ the Brahmin replied. ‘I asked. I knew it would be what you wanted.’ He seemed reluctant to say more. But soon he did. ‘I am deeply worried for her, Sovan. We have managed to safeguard her so far, but I don’t know how long that can continue. She is accused of treason and insurrection. There are no crimes more serious.’

  ‘Then I will have to do something, Brahmin, that will force the King to see me, and force him to listen when he does.’

  Sovan was astonished he had spoken so boldly. In fact, this ‘something’ had come to him right as he stood there. So he told it to the Brahmin, ignoring the warnings that the priest immediately began to voice, and told him also to wait two hours before telling the King, so that no soldiers could overtake him and prevent it.

  He hurried the horse back toward his house. He had suddenly realized the danger which his own family faced right now, and as he rode through darkness, passing night travellers and an oxcart coming in the other direction, he worried more and more that soldiers would come for them too. But when he reached the house, everything was as befor
e. He gathered family and servants and told them that they would all leave immediately for the estate of a cousin of Suriya east of the Capital. It was just a precaution, he said, taken just in case. They would use a narrow track from the rear of the house through forest, so as to avoid anyone who might be coming out from the city on the road. Carts and oxen and horses were quickly assembled. He said a tearful good-bye to Suriya and to the children, but not to Bopa. She wasn’t there.

  ‘She’s already left, in a cart,’ Suriya explained.

  Soon Sovan stood all alone, watching his family disappear down the track.

  Now he went to the construction site. He told the watchman he found at the design pavilion to call the foremen at the various camps where the labourers lived. When they had assembled in front of him, puzzled by the night-time summons, he told them that work would stop on the mountain-temple. The twenty-two thousand pairs of hands on the project should all stay away from their jobs starting tomorrow. Those who wished to go to their home villages were free to do so. He thanked the foremen for their many efforts in recent years, adding how much he had valued the partnership. Then he dismissed them.

  This is what he did next: He found one of the wooden handcarts that labourers used to move earth or stone, and brought it to the design pavilion. Inside, he opened the cabinets. He removed every copy of every building plan, every sketch of every future statue and bas relief. There were quite a few; the cart’s bin was barely able to contain them all. He pushed the load to his house, past the pond and down the forest path to the kilns. Perhaps a dozen people were there, minding the fires. He told them they should leave, that this place would soon be very dangerous. They merely froze, worried for their master and what his pushing a cart might mean. Now he told them again to leave and they went.

  He pushed the plans one by one through the holes in which the kiln fires burned. The heat strong on his face, he watched as each burst into flame and turned quickly to ash.